


The Sodom Below

by RiseRaptureRise



Series: The Plague of Rapture [1]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: A Lot of Death, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea, Bioshock AU, Blood, Body Modification, Cannon Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gore, It's Bioshock, M/M, More Death, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Original Characters - Freeform, Plasmids (BioShock), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rapture (BioShock), Splicers - Freeform, Steinman is going to town, Violence, adam addiction, dead body modification, don't get attached to the OCs - Freeform, it's the end of the world as we know it, its called shellshock for the time era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 233,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseRaptureRise/pseuds/RiseRaptureRise
Summary: Things had been simple at the start. Working for Ryan in Hephestus, go out for a few drinks and finally collapse after a long days work. Rinse, repeat. Things had been so simple, but they don't stay that way do they?'What was it Andrew Ryan always said?' Emilie thought to herself as she loaded the bullets into her revolver, 'We all make choices but in the end, our choices make us... 'Part two: The Butterfly Effect.
Series: The Plague of Rapture [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670662
Comments: 24
Kudos: 23





	1. Beyond the Sea

Somewhere beyond the sea:

* * *

  
  
_Emilie Lokken, An Engineering Wonder:_  
  
_So Rapture… a city at the bottom of the ocean- honestly I couldn’t believe it at first. Figured it was just a pretty fantasy, but here we are. It’s an engineering wonder. I wasn’t part of the crew who built it but I’m now responsible for keeping it going. Accommodation is lacking but give it time and I’ll be moving up in the world. Pappa would’ve loved this place… wish he could've been here to see it._

* * *

  
  
The loud knocks and bangs of heavy machinery was a better wake up call than a cup of coffee ever would be. Picking her way through the crowd of workers, the young woman dodged men in overalls walking this way and that, skipped round a pile of parts, quickly pulling her hair, crimson like blood, up out of her face and tying a head scarf round just to be double sure. The last thing she’d want was her hair getting tangled in one of the rotors or chains, she liked it where it was and had no desire to be scalped. She’d seen it happen to less fortunate souls and the mess it left behind wasn’t pretty. Even when they tried to get it fix, well there was only so much surgery could do.

Emilie Lokken, a Norwegian electrical engineer and mechanic, was what many would call a stubborn woman. _‘Bone in the nose’_ , her father always used to say, _‘bone in the nose, just like your mother’_. Emilie would argue that ‘bone in the nose’ was just a family trait that all members of her family were guilty of. Her father included, but his daughter’s stubbornness was a whole new ball game. She wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to and after the war she became a lot more guarded and closed off, only letting a few people close and by default became more stubborn then she had been, which was no mean feat.  
  
Naturally Andrew Ryan’s city appealed to her, a chance to use he skills without having the constant judge of ‘not being a woman’s activity’, well that was just a load of bull, because she would argue she was one of the best. Another wonderful quality of her’s, a short fuse, down to the red hair she’d say. Touched by fire, it came out in her personality. Mostly she kept to herself, only interacting when she needed to with others, but a few had managed to crawl under her skin in the few months she’d been here and now it didn’t look like they’d be going anywhere else any time quick.  
  
“You’re in early. I thought you were afternoon shift?”  
  
Emilie looked up at Kyburz, who sent her a friendly smile. He was one of the few she could stand down here. He was neat and tidy man, sometimes a little skittish, certainly had an air of paranoia about him at times, but you got a few drinks down him and he’d be so relaxed and open he would tell you anything, even stuff he probably shouldn’t, like passcodes to his office. She always made sure she was with him when they drunk, she could hold her liquor reasonably well, Kyburz was, without a doubt, a lightweight.  
  
“I didn’t have anything else to do,” she shrugged slightly. “Not much to do round the drop, other than fixing a lot of leaks and complaining that the damn elevator is broken again. Not very much ‘deluxe’ about the ‘Sinclair deluxe’,” Em flicked the welder’s mask down over her face as she lit the torch. “Think it’s part of Sinclair’s sense of humour.”  
  
“So you decided to come to work earlier?”  
  
“If it means I can avoid Pablov, I will take it. I hate that man,” she switched the torch off, lifted the mask up and looked over her work. “I don’t like the way he looks at me. My eyes are on my face and not wherever the hell he looks when he faces me.”  
  
Kyburz nodded his head. “I know. I can try getting you a different shift. The morning shift, since you seem to be an early bird.”  
  
Em snorted, but she supposed he wasn’t wrong, well, not entirely. It wasn’t that she woke early, it was more she hadn’t slept the night before.  
  
When her friends asked, she would wave it off as noises in the night and it wasn’t a complete lie, she just never followed it up with the explanation that the noises she was hearing weren’t the sea or the drip of a leaky pipe or hell the elevator noisily working for once. It was the sounds of the war. Of the bombs that hit London and the factory her and her father had been working at in an effort to help the allies.  
  
That bomb hit and suddenly she was trapped under the rubble, barely being able to breath, coughing and choking from the brick dust, slowly having the feeling of being crushed, unable to breath or see, just hear the sounds of screams and smell the scent of burning flesh, oil, smoke and copper. Her father had died in the blast, he’d been next to her when it hit and she often wondered how she made it out with just a few cuts and bruises, yet he lost his life. She’d been trapped there for two days with him until they finally cleared enough of the debris to get her out. Taken to hospital immediately or as quickly as they could, to be treated.  
  
Since then, dark small spaces scared her, terrified her. The last time she’d had to crawl into an air vent, she suddenly couldn’t breath, felt the brick dust in her lungs all over again, couldn’t move, felt the phantom pain of bricks digging into her back. When they pulled her out of the vent she apparently had been screaming. Em didn’t remember that, she only remembered a blanket being wrapped round her shoulders and a cup of water being placed in her hand and then she was left to her own devices. One would argue that wasn’t always a wise decision, as after work was over she was down at the bar having a drink. Then one drink turned into five and then several. She’d almost fallen asleep at the bar, but walked home, Kyburz had walked her all the way back to her apartment and told her to go to bed, no questions asked. Grace stayed with her the whole night to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.  
  
After that day, Emilie refused to go anywhere near an air vent. It was embarrassing. The whole event had been embarrassing. Even now, some would stare at her, she’d hear whispers and mutterings behind her back and would try not to let her temper get the better of her, but if she flew off the handle a few times, well it was hardly her fault. The bastards usually had it coming.  
  
On good days she slept, on bad days she woke up from nightmares, on really bad days she didn’t sleep at all and on the worst days she’d sit on her sofa awake all night and drinking from the bottle, letting the sting and haze of alcohol drown out the bombs and screams, the smell of cheap whisky would smother any smell of copper, burning flesh and oil. She’d drink and drink until the whole bottle was gone and sometimes she’d pass out after and other times she’d come to work in the afternoon a little wobbly on her feet, but no one made comment. She wasn’t the only one coming to work drunk after all, there were plenty of others that solved their problems with a bottle and she would argue, that technically, according to science, whisky was a solution.  
  
Last night had not been a bad night, she’d actually slept all the way through and woke up bright and early feeling a lot better and brighter then she had in a while. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, as it were, she’d gone to work early, hoping to get it all done to not do her afternoon shift. That meant she could leave for an evening with her friends, which meant two of her favourite things; dancing and more drinking. She’d have to monitor herself though, if she drank too much she’d go from happy drunk to depressive drunk and eventually crying drunk, which really brought down the mood.  
  
“If you could, Kyburz, I’d owe you,” she looked up at him and flashed one of her rare smiles at him. “You’re a real life saver ya’ know? If you weren’t here I think I’d of gone crazy.”  
  
“Daniel would still be here,” Kyburz reminded her. “You know… when he’s not drinking himself stupid.”  
  
“You’re hardly one to talk,” Em laughed. “You can’t hold your liquor for love nor money.”  
  
Kyburz nodded. “Fair. That’s fair, but least I know when to stop.” She threw him a look. “Okay,” he lamented. “If I’m having a good time I don’t, but I can stop, I can choose to stop,” he paused for a second for mumbling quietly. “Well, I decide or my wallet does.”  
  
Em chuckled, measuring out another piece of metal as she replied. “Well them’s the brakes, I guess. We all say we can choose to stop, but I think it’s more the wallets and purses that decide for us,” she looked up at him with a frown. “Where is Daniel?”  
  
Kyburz shrugged with one arm, while he held a clipboard in the other hand, looking it over. “I don’t know. That damn idiot is a genius but… ah, he’s probably at some bar somewhere or Bill’s tavern…” he frowned at the clipboard. “Or passed out by the Atlantic Express.”  
  
She hummed. “Yeah… I’ve found him there a few times myself.”  
  
“Numerous,” the Australian muttered as he flicked a page up. “Numerous times. Idiot don’t know how to look after himself.”  
  
He wasn’t wrong. Daniel Warren was a brilliant engineer. Not a very big man, small and thin, almost frail looking, eyes sunken and gaunt, usually came into work with dark circles under his eyes, so dark they were almost black. His eyes were always bruised and sometimes they held that watery sheen of a drunk to them, hazy and distant. It was a shame really since he was such a brilliant mind.  
  
Usually the drinking occurred after a date had gone wrong, he was always so unlucky in love but damn if the man wasn’t persistent, but most women would either overlook or just ignore him because he was a quiet man. Hell most people overlooked or ignored him because he was quiet. But quiet didn’t mean stupid, in fact Em believed that Daniel saw more than he would admit he did, probably knew more about the other workers here than any one else. Unfortunately for Daniel, it was the drinking that let him down. It always had been, but she wasn’t one to judge, she had no room to. That secret stash of alcohol she kept hidden under her bed was a testament to that, she kept it there since after an episode and a ‘worse day’ Kyburz would always pour the alcohol she kept in her cupboards down the sink. He was looking after her, she knew, but damn if it wasn’t irritating. The first time he’d done it she’d been so angry she didn’t speak to him for a week, then she got over herself, bought two lots of booze and hid half of it under her bed and put the other half in the kitchen where he’d find it. Drinking for her and Daniel was a vice, a very big one and it wasn’t going to go away any time soon, she knew that, but there were _worse_ things you could be addicted to.  
  
Some of the folks round the drop preferred needlin’ or the nose candy. Their addictions were even easier to feed now they were in Rapture, where anything was aloud, so long as you could produce it here. They gave the stores fancy names in French of course, to make it seem classier then it actually was, but as a woman who suffered from a vice, she knew there was nothing classy about it. But hey, it was nice to pretend, right?  
  
“Heads up,” Kyburz muttered nodding in the direction of the steps. “Would you look at that. Didn’t expect to see him here.”  
  
“Daniel?” She asked turning towards the stairs, but Kyburz shook his head, still staring at the stairs Em was also looking at. That well tailored suit, those perfectly shined shoes that matched the bald head, neatly trimmed ‘tash, there was only one person it could be, but just because she recognised him, didn’t mean she understood why he was here.  
  
“What the hell is Frank Fontaine doing here?” Em frowned. “Shouldn’t he be down at the fisheries?”  
  
“Beats me,” Kyburz replied, a frown of his own on his face. “I don’t know what to make of the man, myself.”  
  
Em had a feeling that a lot of people didn’t know what to make of Frank Fontaine. There was something of a snake oil salesmen about the man, the smile never quite seemed right, it was all teeth like a shark and it never quite reached his eyes. Half the time he always wore that stupid smirk on his face, but at the moment it seemed absent, he looked annoyed. Put out that he even had to be here in the first place.  
  
Well at least it was nice to know that even for the big shots of this wet town, things didn’t always go to plan.  
  
Behind him stood a great big wall of a man, shoulders broad and strong, like an ox, all his strength was clearly mostly in his shoulders and forearms. He barely seemed to be able to fit in the shirt and waistcoat he wore, hair was cut short round the sides and slightly greying and a scar arched up through his right eyebrow, like an injury you’d get from boxing or bare knuckle.  
  
Em had seen him round the Fighting McDonagh, sat at the back with a smoke and a beer, not talking to anyone much, just watching the workers of the fisheries at the bar, like a sheepdog keeping watch over a flock. From what she knew, the walking wall was Fontaine’s bodyguard, who he kept close nearly at all times. Didn’t really seem like the smartest of guys, but you didn’t need to be smart to throw one hell of a punch.  
  
“Which one of you boys are in charge round here?” Fontaine suddenly spoke and Em looked up at Kyburz who sighed and threw her a quick glance.  
  
“Better go see what he wants, boss,” she winked at him.  
  
He rolled his eyes but nodded along, putting on his best smile as he walked over to Fontaine. “Mister Fontaine, what can I do for you, sir?”  
  
Em snorted at the overly cheery and polite tone, flipping the welder’s mask down again and going back to work. She guessed they were all snake oil salesmen to a degree. You had to be to make it in this town.  
  
Her back was turned to the scene behind her and she tuned out the conversation so she could concentrate on her work, getting so engrossed she didn’t even here the three sets footsteps approaching her or when they stopped.  
  
“You Lokken?”  
  
Em frowned behind her welder’s mask at the use of her last name, lifting up her mask to scowl at who it was. “Who’s asking?” She damn near froze when she found Frank Fontaine standing in front of her, with his bodyguard behind him and Kyburz hanging just behind staring at her with wide eyes.  
  
Fontaine looked surprised when she lifted the mask up, probably wasn’t expecting it to be a woman underneath, few people were, but once he got over the shock, on slipped that signature smirk.  
  
_Here comes the snake oil salesmen_ , she thought, raising an eyebrow in response.  
  
“Well, yous sure ain’t what I was expecting,” Fontaine smirked, pocketing his hands in his trouser pockets, long coat falling behind him. “Certainly an improvement on the scenery.”  
  
“Do I strike you as the type of girl you can impress with a witty line about my looks?” She rose an eyebrow at him, challenging and the smirk turned into a full on grin. _There’s the shark_ , she thought, lowering her mask and turning back to her work. “I’m busy, Mister Fontaine, what do you want?”  
  
“Tough nut huh?” He said. “I can work with that. I got some work that needs to be done, doll, ya boss here,” he gestured to Kyburz. “Said yous was the best. I was thinkin’ you could do some work for me, but seeing what was hiding under that mask, I’m thinking maybe you could do a little extra too.”  
  
“I’m not that kind of working girl, Mister Fontaine, you want that go to Eve’s garden.”  
  
“Gotta say, being told to go to a burlesque club ain’t the worst places I’ve been told to go,” he smiled. “Needless to say that ain’t what I meant.”  
  
“Then what did you mean, Mister Fontaine?”  
  
“Do I have your full attention?”  
  
“I’m still sitting here aren’t I?”  
  
He chuckled slightly. “Cute kid. Real, cute,” Fontaine ran a hand over his bald head, “See I got me a little problem,” she bit the inside of her cheek to stop the comment that had entered her head from leaving her lips. “One of my boys crashed my biggest fishin’ sub, really damaged it, can’t go back out until it’s fixed,” he paused a moment looking at her to see if she was listening. Em waved her hand for him to continue. “None of the boys know how to fix up a sub, tackle nets and crab baskets no problem, but a damn fishing sub? Completely useless. Sorta makes me wonder just what the hell I pay them for,” he muttered quietly before piling on the charm again. “Came down here lookin’ for someone of your expertise to fix it.”  
  
“And you chose me, because?”  
  
“As I said, your boss here,” she glanced at Kyburz who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment, before her eyes drifted back to Fontaine. “Well, he said yous was the best and I only settle for the best.”  
  
“That a new resolution?” Em asked, getting to her feet. “Cause if your boys crashed your sub, they certainly can’t be the best.”  
  
“Ya got that right. The mug who’s responsible for it…” Fontaine trailed off, before he smiled, glancing behind him at his bodyguard who grinned back at him. “Well let’s just say he was firmly and professionally disciplined. All within workers rights, weren’t it Reggie?”  
  
“Sure was boss. Real professional,” the bodyguard, Reggie, responded, his hands were now clasped behind his back. “No lines crossed.”  
  
“ ‘zactly. I treat my boys well, kills me when I have to be firm with them,” he smiled at Em. “Ya know what I’m saying? Bet you have the same problem with this fella too?”  
  
Em allowed herself to smirk back at him. “More like he has to be careful of me,” she stood up, taking the mask off completely and turning to Fontaine. “Say I do this… It’s strictly freelance. I’ll be working out of my contracted hours, so I expect my price to be met and no swindling.”  
  
“Swindlin’?” He placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Ms Lokken. I’m a legitimate businessman, nothing more.”  
  
“No one in Rapture is ‘legitimate’,” she replied, before plastering on a smile. “But it’s just a bit of friendly competition right? No harm, no fowl.”  
  
“Your words, not mine,” he winked at her. “What’s ya price, dollface?"  
  
Her eye twitched at the pet name. “How about we say three thousand, you don’t call me dollface ever again and we have a deal?”  
  
“Drive a hard bargain, Ms Lokken,” he held his hand out. “It’s a deal.”  
  
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t shake,” she said lifting up her grease and oil covered hands. “Whilst you can probably afford the dry cleaning, I think you’d rather keep that pocket change in your pocket.”  
  
“How considerate,” Fontaine drawled, looking her up and down a moment before continuing. “Come by the Fisheries when ya done here, we’ll draw up a small contract between us,” He hooked a thumb at Reggie. “Just look for Reggie, he’ll show you in. We draw up the contract and you’ll get to work on the sub.” She nodded along.  
  
“Sounds about right. I’ll see you then, Mister Fontaine, you have a good rest of your day now,” she turned back to her work, fixing her mask back on and re-lighting the torch.  
  
“See ya round, dollface.”  
  
She froze before lifting the mask up to glare at him and his grin.  
  
“We ain’t drawn the contract up yet,” he reminded her. “I’m just messin’ with ya, relax.”  
  
“I am relaxed,” she replied.  
  
Fontaine smirked. “See ya, Ms Lokken, I better be payin’ for good work.”  
  
“Only the _best_ , Mister Fontaine,” she smirked back, watching as he stopped a second before rolling his shoulders and continuing to walk off, Reggie close behind him.  
  
It was silent while Fontaine left, once he was upstairs the workers went back to their jobs, she didn’t even know she’d gained an audience in the first place.  
  
Kyburz practically deflated once he was gone, turning to her with a quizzical look. “Didn’t expect you to go for it.”  
  
“Money’s money,” she shrugged. “I’ll take it where I can. Plus a little extra in my pocket, well you don’t see me complaining do you?”  
  
“Still, watch yourself round Fontaine,” he said in warning. “From what I hear, he’s a tricky one.”  
  
“So is everyone else in this place, Kyburz,” she replied with a sigh. “Every single one of ‘em are either selfish bitches or selfish bastards, just cause some are better at hiding it than others doesn’t make it any less of the truth.”  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed, looking up and snorting. “Well look who finally decided to show up.”  
  
Em turned to see Daniel wobbling on his feet and quickly doing the last few buttons of his overalls.  
  
“Wonder what the excuse will be this time,” the man went on, walking over to Daniel who now looked like he was struggling with the last two buttons and frowning like it was the most complex puzzle he’d come across. “And just what time do you call this?”  
  
Daniel looked up started, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I was just- lost track of-.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, save it,” Kyburz swiped at him with the clipboard and Daniel almost tripped over his own feet as he went to dodge, he probably would’ve face planted if Kyburz hadn’t shot out an arm to steady him. “Get going,” he pointed in the direction of the core control. “Hopefully the cold will dry you out.”  
  
Daniel started hurrying along, still stammering out excuses while Kyburz followed him, heckling back at the still slightly tipsy engineer.

* * *

_Daniel Warren, Just quiet:_  
  
_People… people always forget ya know… forget the quiet guys. They think cause we’re quiet we don’t have an… an opinion but they’re wrong. I want to yell so much at them, I wanna scream and tell ‘em all how stupid they are. I’m… I’m not a little guy… I’m just quiet. That’s all. Just quiet._


	2. Raindrops keep falling on my head

_Augustus Sinclair, Sinclair Deluxe and Sinclair Spirits:_   
  
_If a smart fella wanted to talk some bankrupt fat-cat into moving to a slum, he’d call the place a Hotel on the nightly. The tenant dries his eyes an’ tells himself it’s only temporary- and the smart fella shaves a dime a day off his drinkin’ wage. Now, a smarter fella might also bankroll the local gin joints… and take him for the rest._

* * *

Daniel Warren drew a sigh of relief once his shift was over. His back ached and his legs were tired from all the running around and constant bending over and picking things up, carrying heavy pieces of metal over long distances and up stairs. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand as they stung from some of the smoke and fumes that came with working in Hephestus for long periods of time, using the back of his hand so he didn’t smudge grease or oil across his face, his hands were already black.  
  
As he clocked out, the next shift clocked in, he noticed Emilie was in a hurry to leave but from what he’d heard from all the chatter going on, she seemed to of scored herself a pretty good deal with Fontaine of all people. That was mighty lucky, to get dealings with both Fontaine and Ryan, well they all worked for Ryan in Hephestus, not that their wage would reflect that they were working for a wealthy millionaire… or maybe it did.  
  
He waved to her briefly as she got into one of the bathyspheres, pulling on a long coat and flashing a brief smile and wave in his direction, before disappearing beneath the water as the sphere shot down towards the port entrance. He waited along with the rest of the workers, overalls in his bag, a jacket slung over his arm with a flat cap resting on his head. Kyburz was standing next to him. The Australian was babbling on about the event with Fontaine, clear concern for Em, but well Daniel wasn’t worried about her.  
  
There was a reason, after all, why most of the other workers stayed away from her. She had a temper and was never shy to show it, especially if you tried to belittle her. Some of the others had the bright idea to make fun because of her being a woman in a man’s job. She, as Daniel recalled, was quick to remind them that a man’s ‘pride’ as it were, was also his downfall. She was not a woman who would be pushed around and she was good at her job, very good in fact, better then than some of the men.  
  
Daniel was also extremely good at his job, a true genius, probably one of Rapture’s greatest minds. That is of course when he wasn’t drowning it in alcohol.  
  
See, Daniel’s problem was he was a serial dater. Not by choice, it’s just his dates never went well. Women just weren’t interested in a soft spoken man with a nervous disposition, no matter how smart they were. No, most women of Rapture wanted a strong jawed, handsome man who could pile on the charm and flash a grin or a wink and get whatever they wanted. You got that in a place like Rapture and the girls just came flocking.  
  
 _Lucky bastards_ , Daniel thought glumly as he pulled his jacket on, nodding along to Kyburz who had now gone onto a tangent of protecting Em’s honour against Pablov and really Daniel couldn’t blame him.  
  
Pablov was a disgusting, crude man, who often leered at the girls and wasn’t too subtle about it neither, no matter how insistent he was. If slime had a human form it would be Pablov. He’d practically ogled Em the moment she started working there, tried to make some advancements, which she quickly shot down. Nothing quite said ‘no’ like a wrench to the wrist.  
  
Even though she’d fought him off, it seemed Kyburz was determined to be a heroic knight rescuing a damsel that was not in distress and even if she was, well Daniel was fairly certain she would handle it.  
  
Still, he couldn’t really blame Kyburz for acting like this, especially after the last comment Pablov had made in the changing room. Not at Em, but about her; _‘Just you wait,’_ he’d said, _‘Give it time and the woman will come to her senses, then she’ll show me round her back yard…’_ He’d gone on like that for the time they were in the changing room and Kyburz’s knuckles were practically white with how tight he’d gripped his fist. Daniel suspected it took all his self restraint not to hit Pablov.  
  
“You know if he makes one more comment, one more comment about her,” Kyburz carried on, waving his hand around to emphasise his point. “I’ll break his damn nose! Or- or his jaw!”  
  
Daniel nodded along. “Are you going to swap her shifts? It would make sense.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kyburz nodded. “God knows Em doesn’t need that kind of attention. Specially from a slime like him.”  
  
“She seemed better today,” Daniel went on, voice soft, barely above a whisper. “You know? Not so… jumpy or.. or skittish- not that Ms Em is ever skittish but-.”  
  
“She was better,” the other man nodded. “I think she actually slept… ya know how it is.. shellshock and all that.”  
  
Shellshock, yeah Daniel knew, he’d been there when they pulled her out of the air vent. It was terrifying. Terrifying for her, for them, no one knew what to do.  
  
It was like she couldn’t hear them, like she wasn’t with them in that moment… she was somewhere but not there, not with them in Rapture, she was topside… somewhere.  
  
He didn’t know where. One thing Em was, in every sense of the word, was private. She only let people know what she wanted them to know and never spoke over much about herself. In fact Daniel didn’t know much about her at all. Didn’t know what she’d done topside, didn’t know why she suffered from shellshock, but it wasn’t just her who suffered from such a cruel condition.  
  
They’d walked through to Market Street and Daniel was headed for High Street, for the Satyr, a bar which drinking from had almost cost him the rent a few times, but if you wanted the good stuff in Rapture you had to pay for it. Most alcohol was watered down, but the more expensive it was, the less water was in your whisky.  
  
He pointed to it and shrugged to Kyburz who didn’t look impressed that Daniel was going to a bar at lunch time.  
  
“Haven’t you had enough?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “You still haven’t dried out from last night have you? Not fully. Look at you! You’re still swaying on ya bloody feet.”  
  
Daniel frowned slightly. “A good drink never killed anyone.”  
  
“No, but it’ll send you to an early grave, just like it did my Uncle.”  
  
“And bar’s are good places to meet women.”

Kyburz groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus not this again… Daniel-.”  
  
“I’m gonna find my girl in this city I know I will!”  
  
“I’m sure you will, but maybe not at a bar,” he looked at him pleadingly. “You know these highbrows won’t look twice at an electrical engineer like you or me. Look over us maybe… or down at us…”  
  
“You just haven’t seen me in action.”  
  
“Yes I have. I can _assure_ you, once was enough.”  
  
Daniel looked slightly annoyed at him. “You’re one to talk, I don’t see a girl on your arm neither.”  
  
Kyburz didn’t even blink. “Just biding my time.”  
  
Warren frowned at him before he smiled and patted his arm. “One drink won’t kill you. Come on, it’ll be fun… you can tell me all the horrible things you’re going to do to Pablov..” He paused before adding. “And I don’t want to drink alone, so please Kyburz… you could be my wingman!”  
  
The Australian sighed softly. “One drink…” he mumbled. “And I suppose someone’s gotta drag your sorry soul home once you’ve gone five over too many. You really need to learn your limit.”  
  
“I’ll learn my limit when you do.”  
  
“…just order the damn drinks.”

* * *

  
Neptune’s Bounty was one of the lowest points of Rapture, practically by the sea bed. The air smelt of fish and salt water, some parts were leaking and little pools of water would appear on the wooden piers. The mixture of water and fish blood making them slippy and hard to walk on.  
  
The piers were always busy, filled with life as the fishermen and fishery workers darted back and forth, hauling in new catches, carrying crates of fish or tackle. Crab baskets were piled high in one corner, a chopping block were a line of men would yank the guts out of the fish and drop them in a bucket before using the bucket of guts as a lure to catch more fish and so the cycle continued.  
  
Being that Neptune’s Bounty was as deep as it was, the place was freezing, you would often see your breath and the place was dark, often tinged in a dark blue shade cast from the ocean, but a few neon lights from the nearby businesses contrasted against the inky darkness and gave it a bit more life and character.  
  
Em had been to Neptune’s Bounty many times, which is why she knew she’d need a coat. The first time she’d come down here, she’d been caught out by the temperature and would’ve damn near frozen if Kyburz hadn’t given her his jacket. She’d declined it but he insisted and Em swore she saw him shivering, but every time she offered it back to him he’d shake his head and insist he was fine. Em didn’t believe him then and she still didn’t now, she came from Norway and found it cold, he was from the other side of the globe and used to live in a country decidedly hotter than her own. So no, she didn’t believe him.  
  
Ever since then she always took a coat with her. Weather her, Daniel and Kyburz were going down to drink at the Fighting McDonagh or if it was her and Kelly, the girls would go down to the same Tavern to dance with some of the boys there, which sure got your blood pumping and at the end of those nights, Em would walk home by herself while Kelly went home with a man on her arm for a role in the hay later and she left with a different man every time.  
  
 _‘Well when you’ve been with them once, there’s hardly anything else to learn about them,’_ Kelly would often say. _‘And really with some of them, once is quite enough.’_  
  
Emilie found herself smiling at the thought of her wild friend, she hoped to get this evening with Fontaine over so she could catch up with Kelly at Fort Frolic and dance the night away with some fella. Diane would probably be there too, she was a fan of Fort Frolic, but she’d never step foot in the Tavern.  
  
She always found that funny about Diane, the woman had started out as a cigarette girl at a club until Ryan came along and swept her off her feet, then she was dragged along to Rapture and Diane very much liked to act like she was one of the higher class, hated being reminded of her cigarette girl origins, like she was ashamed of them. Em didn’t know why, if anything she should be proud, because look at her now. Queen of Rapture standing next to the King who claimed that he was only a man like the rest of them.  
  
Finally, she’d made it to Fontaine Fisheries, the bright blue and yellow neon reflected off the water and blood slicked wood and men darted around frantically, stacking boxes, sweeping and cleaning any guts that might of slipped out of the buckets.  
  
She took a step towards the door and the moment she did, a man with greying wild hair, a crooked nose and weathered face, snapped his head up to her, glaring and face pulling into a scowl.  
  
“Get going, you’re going to get in the way!” He looked back at what he was doing, waving his hand in a gesture to go, not even looking at her again and truth be told she wasn’t quite sure who this worker was either. Not that she knew many of the fishery workers, but sometimes when her and the rest of the boys came down from Hephestus to Bill’s Tavern there would be a roudy night of competitions and a lot of drinking and usually a lot of fights afterwards.  
  
When that happened, Bill would often sneak Kyburz, Daniel and herself out the back in the secret so they didn’t get in trouble, in return, they’d help him clean up the mess that had been left behind. Well she and Kyburz did, Daniel was usually passed out somewhere.  
  
“Actually I’m here to see Mister Fontaine-“  
  
“See Mister Fontaine? Shouldn’t you meet him at his Penthouse?”  
  
She scowled slightly and _now_ she recognised who this was. “C’mon now Peachy… you know that’s not the type of work I do. I know I’m in red,” she gestured to her hair. “But that’s a hardly a reason to go carling me a harlot.”  
  
His eyes widened a second and he looked back up at her like a dear in headlights. “Oh shit… Ah, Ms Em! I didn’t recognise ya-.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, ya awful sorry, I know. Save it,” she crossed her arms. “Where’s Fontaine, Peach? I’m here to fix his damn fishing sub,” out of the corner of her eye one of the men dropped a box and gripped at his ribs, wincing as he bent over to pick it up again. She turned her attention back to Peach, as she continued. “Heard one of you boys busted it.”  
  
Peach casted a glance at the man who had dropped the box before looking back at her. “Yeah somethin’ like that. Damn idiot scraped it on the edge of the loading bay.”

“That’s quite an impressive feat to damage a sub so badly it can’t go out again… while you’re parking it.”  
  
“Bastard went in too fast.”  
  
“Yes, I hear that’s a problem most men have, they’re only concerned about finishing.”  
  
Peach let his mouth twitch up in a smirk.  
  
“Fontaine, Peach. Where is he?”  
  
“The boss is inside, no doubt waiting for his wonder engineer to fix her up,” he gestured at her. “You go boasting that you’re the best again, haven’t ya? Hmm… maybe the Norsky should watch her footing round here. You come on in like you own the place, but this here is the Fisheries, this ain’t your cozy little Hephestus.”  
  
“I’d hardly describe Hesphestus as ‘cozy’, but the temperature is certainly better than this ice box,” Em flicked some hair out of her face. “Fontaine, Peach. Don’t make me ask again.”  
  
“Like I’s said. This ain’t your area, this is ours,” he gestured to the other fishery workers. “You best watch your footing round here, Lokken, you don’t have no back up of that Ausie or-.”  
  
“Ms Lokken.”  
  
Peach snapped his mouth shut and turned to see Reggie standing right behind him looking at Em. “There a problem here?”  
  
“No,” Em smiled at him. “We’re just fine, aren’t we Peachy?”  
  
Peach muttered something, ducking his head and quickly dashing off to help move more boxes, leaving Reggie and Em by the front entrance of Fontaine Fisheries.  
  
Reggie flashed her a smile, stepping aside and gesturing to the door. “Da boss is waitin’ on ya. He’s in his office.”  
  
Em nodded, walking inside, gripping her coat tighter around herself at the freezing temperatures of the Fisheries, kept that way to keep the fish fresh, she knew that but damn it was bitter. Colder then Norway she was certain of that.  
  
It was easy to locate Fontaine’s office, there was a steel door with a little sliding door in the middle for people to look out of and see who it was exactly trying to come inside. The front entrance had one just like it. She supposed Fontaine liked to make sure he was letting in the right person.  
  
She went to knock, but paused at the sound of voices. One was clearly Fontaine but the other… well it was a woman for certain, older and British, her voice was clipped and sharp edges with a dry tone underlying it all.  
  
“You sure you added that up right?”  
  
“Yes of course I’m sure.”  
  
“Certain? I can’t have no slip ups, Limes, you know that. ’Specially if I want to expand my brand.”  
  
“To what exactly? Odour le poisson? I’m not sure that would sell well, Francis.”  
  
“Very funny. You know I gotta push out, Ryan ain’t gonna be in control of Rapture forever. I’m thinkin’ a department store. Get little business to pay rent, sell some stuff of our own in there too, a few dinars… Could work out nicely. Bring in a lot of extra cash.”  
  
“And what exactly would we be selling besides fish?”  
  
“I’m workin’ on it.”  
  
“You goin’ in?”  
  
Em jumped and span around at Reggie’s voice, the man was standing behind her with a smile on his face and a knowing look. Like he knew she’d be listening.  
  
“I often find, if you do this…” he knocked on the door. “It does wonders.”  
  
“Yes, well, why would I need to do that when I have you doing it for me?”  
  
He smiled at that and opened the door at Fontaine’s voice.  
  
“Norsky’s here, boss,” Reggie stated as he stepped inside, Em following behind him inside seeing Fontaine sitting behind a desk, nursing a glass of brandy with a slim woman standing next to him holding two folders.  
  
The woman, clearly the one Em had heard from behind the door, was a blonde, hair neatly curled at the front in victory rolls, big square blue glasses framed her face and she was in a blouse, skirt and cardigan set all neat and polished like the string of pearls around her neck. She was a woman that reminded Em a bit of a school headmistress, standing with her back straight and looking right at Em, piercing green eyes studying her.  
  
The way she looked at Emilie gave her the feeling that this woman felt she’d just learned everything she needed to know with one glance.  
  
“Listening at doors isn’t very proper you know?” She spoke, clipped and sharp just like before.  
  
“It’s Rapture,” Em replied. “Don’t think there’s anything ‘proper’ here.”  
  
“Nothin’ legitimate neither, right?” Fontaine spoke with a quirk of his lips. “Good evenin’ to you Ms Lokken. Limey here is gonna help draw up that contract.”  
  
She rose an eyebrow at the name and the woman dubbed ‘Limey’ rolled her eyes. “How many times… It’s Katherine. My name is Katherine. Katherine Michaels,” she looked Em over. “And you’re this… Emilie Lokken. Certainly northern European but are you actually-.”  
  
“Norwegian? Yes. I’d ask you the same question but I feel your accent and ah.. nick name tells me everything I need to know.”  
  
Limey pursed her lips. “Quite,” she replied sharply before turning to Fontaine. “Shall we get on with this then? You know I only stay down here as long as I have to.”  
  
“The docks not to your standard?”  
  
Limey fixed Em with a look. “You may be used to pushing through muck and grime, but I myself am not. These are also new shoes…” she casted a glance at the blue heels, one of Anya’s designs, before looking back at Em. “And I rather they not get covered in sea salt and fish guts,” she fixed Fontaine with a look. “Is there any reason we couldn’t of done this at your penthouse?”  
  
“Cause I think the lady in front of us wouldn’t want rumours flyin’ round, isn’t that right?” Fontaine smirked as he took a sip of his brandy. “You seemed to carry ya’self quite well down at Hephestus. Must be hard workin’ with all those mugs.”  
  
“Has it’s moments,” Emilie replied. “I often find a wrench or a hammer gets my point across. Blow torch if I’m feeling particularly nasty.”  
  
Truth was she’d only ever used her wrench, she would never hit anyone with a hammer and certainly not burn anyone with a torch but if she kept up the act, well people were less likely to bother her. She’d never use the torch anyway because of what it would do to the skin and the smell that went with it. Burning flesh…  
  
Fontaine shook her out of her thoughts as he laughed, even Limey looked fairly impressed. Em even swore the woman smiled slightly, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure.  
  
“I like you kid,” the man behind the desk declared, finishing his drink and gesturing to the seat opposite his. “Take a seat, relax. You want a drink? Maybe a smoke?”  
  
“A cigarette will satisfy,” she replied taking the seat offered to her. “I don’t make dealings drunk. Heard too many horror stories down here to be so careless.”  
  
“Smart. Thinking with the head on your shoulders. Not so many do that.”  
  
“That’s because they see a shiny city at the bottom of the ocean and forget that sharks also swim with them,” she narrowed her eyes pointedly at Fontaine and the man flashed her the shark like grin he’d practically trademarked given how often he flashed it. It was the type of smile that said, ‘we’re friends you and I, for as long as I need you’ and Em was under no illusion that the moment she wasn’t useful to him she’d be seeing the door.  
  
Of course she had no intention of working for Fontaine full time, she had her deal with Ryan and if she was being honest with herself, dealing with one shark was better then two, but the deal and the extra money she’d get from this one for Fontaine would mean she might be able to move out of her crumby little apartment at the Sinclair Deluxe or at least save up for a better place.  
  
Fontaine held his cigarette case open for her and she took out one of the carefully rolled cigarets, hand reaching into her pocket to produce her match box when a silver lighter appeared in front of her, held by Fontaine, lit and ready to use.  
  
It looked like a seahorse, a lot of things in Rapture were sea themed and at first she rather enjoyed it but now it was getting a little old and tiresome.  
  
She’d lost count of the amount of people she’d seen who had sea shell ash trays. The lighter was different though, she hadn’t seen something like that before. What money could get you if you had it to spare. Useless little novelties and trinkets.  
  
She could only dream of having enough money to be able to spend on such silly things, for her though she had to focus on the essentials, food, apartment, booze, medicine. New clothes came once she’d saved up enough but really she spent most of her saved money on new tools.  
  
Emilie was a woman who cared little about her looks and cared more about her job. She’d doll herself up when it came to going out for the evenings of course, a little makeup and wearing her best and only dress with her only pair of heels before dancing the night away with a man or several depending on how the night went and always leaving by herself because the idea of taking anyone home with her to the little apartment she lived in was horrifying.  
  
She wasn’t embarrassed, but one night stands had never appealed to her, she never felt a connection like that and someone’s looks didn’t sell her either. Sure she wasn’t blind, she could see a handsome man but it would take weeks or maybe months for her to feel any sort of significant attraction to even entertain the very idea of entertaining a man in the bedroom.  
  
Kelly thought she was mad and simply a prude. Em thought she was being sensible and didn’t want to go offering it on a platter when she knew she wouldn’t enjoy it herself.  
  
“So about that contract,” Em spoke crossing her legs and taking a quick drag of the now lit cigarette. “I’ve laid my cards, Mister Fontaine… let’s see what your hand has to offer.”  
  
“Straight to business I see,” He gestured for Limey to start to take notes, before turning his attention to Reggie. “Make sure we ain’t disturbed, you got that Reggie?”  
  
“Sure t’ing boss,” Reggie nodded as he wandered out of the Fisheries, closing the door on the way out.

* * *

  
Augustus Sinclair observed the two men entering his recently opened ‘Sinclair Spirits’, down in Fort Frolic. He didn’t run the shop himself, but he’d popped down today to make sure everything was running just how it was supposed to and it was also good to get a beed on the clientele he was providing for.  
  
These two were clearly drunk and had clearly been kicked out of whatever bar they’d been in and given their inebriated states they’d also clearly been drinking for a long time or quickly. Not bad to say it was only one in the afternoon.  
  
One of them, Sinclair recognised as another poor soul from the Drop, a resident of his from the Sinclair Deluxe and friends with that Norwegian red headed engineer. That woman was a whole other ball game and one Sinclair regularly tried to avoid at all costs, since she was stubborn and a hard headed individual who was also inconveniently sharp at times and there were moments when Augustus didn’t want to have to use all his tricks to keep someone satisfied that they wouldn’t go raising complaints to some of the higher ups or worse, cause unruly unrest amongst the rest of the residents.  
  
The second man Augustus didn’t recognise at all, but looking him over it was clear to see he was a worker of Hesphestus. The smell of oil and smog stuck to him like only a person working in Hephestus for very long periods of time would drag around with them.  
  
Sinclair’s worker was dealing with them well enough and trying to decipher what they were saying, their words slurred and often interrupted by fits of giggles and occasionally full on laughter.  
  
Easy marks and smart ones. Sinclair had just purchased a pretty big building and he had a pretty big idea for it.  
  
Call him a pessimist or maybe just a man who understood people very well, but in a world where the only way to get by was through supposedly ‘friendly’ competition, well Sinclair was gonna bet against Andrew Ryan’s vision of everything running along just smoothly and not having a problem at all to deal with.  
  
Utopias, Sinclair found, in fiction or reality all had one little but very significant problem about them and that was there were always people in them and people often had a tendency to mess a utopia up pretty quick. But give them a utopia where they can do whatever they want, just about, with no negative repercussions, it was pretty much guaranteed that all hell would break loose and when that happened, well Sinclair would be there with a trash can for Andrew Ryan to quietly dump all the troublemakers making a mess of his perfect city.  
  
It was a brilliant plan and Sinclair was a modest man but even he was slightly impressed with himself. Only problem was, he didn’t have the right facilities to even begin suggesting such an idea to Ryan much less executing it, but here now stood two very drunk, very useful metal workers and electrical engineers and hey if they knew that Norsky dame too, well he’d more then be happy to add her into the pay check, might get her to lay off from storming to his office every once in a while to complain about the elevator or the heating and then leave in a whirl wind after.  
  
He admired her charisma and she held a certain charm to her but she was damn difficult to manage. A wild card and not scared to speak her mind and she’d had plenty of not very lady like things to say about Sinclair, but she had character and Sinclair hadn’t kicked her out because he found her just too damn entertaining. Even if she did give him a headache sometimes.  
  
Well, if you had a favourite show you liked to watch, you sure as hell did and just because you liked the show, didn’t mean you had to like every episode now did it?  
  
Augustus fixed his tie, slicked his hair back and flashed his best most convincing smile and walked over to the two drunk fools stumbling over each other. “Afternoon, Gentlemen,” he spoke, southern drawl practically crooning as the two looked at him with glassy eyes. They were ripe for the taking and all Sinclair had to do was talk and weave a pretty little spiel. Easiest mark in the world. “I think you and I can do business, why don’t we sit down and have a talk. Drinks are on the house.”

* * *

  
Em darted out of the fisheries once the contract had been drawn up and agreed upon. She was going to be late to meet with Kelly at Fort Frolic and she hoped the other had some perfume with her because Em stank of fish after spending so long down in Neptune’s Bounty talking to Fontaine.  
  
Reggie watched her go, Peach did too, making some comment under his breath which Reggie was quick to pick up on.  
  
The once bruiser from the bronx slowly walked up behind Peach and placed one very large hand on his decidedly small looking shoulder, making the man stiffen and almost drop the box he’d been holding.  
  
“Mister Fontaine needs this deal goin’ well and without any issues,” he squeezed Peach’s shoulder and the bones crunched a little under the pressure. “We ain’t goin’ to have any issues, are we Peach?”  
  
“No Sir!”  
  
“Good. I’d hate to have to discipline you, Peachy, don’t think you’d be able to handle it,” he gave his shoulder another squeeze, pressing down at the same time before shoving him forward and almost sending the man crashing to the floor if the other workers hand’t been able to catch him in time.  
  
Reggie looked them over with amused contempt. “That goes to the rest of you boys also. Anyone… gives Ms Lokken a hard time, well, I’ll be sure to let the boss know and action will be taken. Charlie there knows all ‘bout it, don’t ya Charlie?”  
  
Charlie had been the man who’d crashed the sub and he quickly gripped at his side where his ribs still hurt from the disciplinary action that had been taken. It had entailed being chained up to one of the hooks they used to hang the fish from in the freezer and then having Reggie using him as a punching bag for a good five minutes.  
  
Now, said man cracked his knuckles in front of the frightened workers and smirked at them knowingly.  
  
“You’s all in understandin’ or do I have to get the boss to tell you?”  
  
The men quickly shook their heads desperately, mutterings of ‘no’ and ‘not needed’ sounding across the board.  
  
“Good,” Reggie lowered his hands. “Now what you all standin’ round for?! Mister Fontaine don’t pay you for doin’ nothing. Get back to work!”  
  
They almost tripped over each other in their haste.  
  
Reggie wandered back to the office where Fontaine was going over a few final documents while Limey was slipping her coat on, pushing her glasses back up her nose when they slipped.  
  
“You got a way with words, Reg,” Frank grinned at him as he closed the file. “Couldn’t of done a better job myself.”  
  
“Learnt it from you, boss. Less is more and all that.”  
  
“Certainly is if you wish to make an impact and I do believe you did that, Reginald,” Limey said, packing up the file into a briefcase now that Frank was done with it.  
  
“Boss would’ve done better.”  
  
“ ‘Cause I run my mouth for a livin’, Reggie, you use those,” he pointed at Reggie’s fists which were still cut and bruised from the beating he’d given to Charlie just the other day.  
  
He’d hidden them behind his back when they’d spoken to Lokken in Hephestus, but the woman wasn’t stupid so it probably didn’t matter if she saw them, she most likely already knew and just didn’t care.  
  
Fontaine looked at his watch and grimaced slightly. “C’mon, it’s gettin’ late. Don’t want to be here anymore then I have to. This pit is colder than winter in New York.”  
  
“Fancy a game of pool, boss?”  
  
“Ya know what, Reggie, why not?” He grinned. “I’m feelin’ pretty good after today. Got the sub sorted, money’s coming in well and I’ll be able to expand like I planned. Gonna have Ryan nibbling table scraps by the time I’m done with his city.”  
  
“Ego is the destruction of most great men, Francis,” Limey spoke up as she handed the briefcase to Reggie who took it and stood aside to let her and Frank pass.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, Limes, I remember. This ain’t my first time ya know?”  
  
“Which is precisely why I am reminding you,” she turned on him sharply. “It is in later years that overconfidence becomes dangerous.”  
  
Frank waved her off. “It’ll be fine. Got all the kinks worked out,” he flashed a grin. “May I offer you my arm, Ma’am?”  
  
“My god, you are in a good mood if you’re being this polite,” she mumbled taking his arm and walking towards the exit, with Reggie behind them, swinging the briefcase. “What can I say, Limes?” Frank said, his eyes flashed with delight. “It’s all coming together…”

* * *

  
_Frank Fontaine, Piece of work:_   
  
_That Norsky engineer is a real piece o’ work, damaged goods just like most of the other mugs in this town… but she knows her stuff and don’t ask questions. My kind of dame. Workin’ for Ryan full time for now, but give it time and she’ll see where the real scratch is made. Thing is, she’s an observant type. Don’t say much but she’s sharp, can respect that, not much gets past her. Even heard old Sinclair’s having a hard time dancing round this dame. Not the first time I’ve had to put my good foot forward. The boys are real scared of her though, heh, even Reggie gives her a wide birth, I ain’t seen it yet but from what I’ve heard, when this doll flies off the handle she’s quite a sight. Might be worth pushin’ her to see the spectacle._


	3. La Mer

_Kelly Christie,_

_Immaterial:_   
  
_A city at the bottom of the sea… ha! Who would’ve thought it? Certainly not me. I came down here after working for Mister Ryan on a business deal. He was impressed with how I handled myself in the office and how officiant I was at getting deals signed and so forth… If only he knew… Well, it doesn’t matter how I did it, just that I did. The means are immaterial, the results are everything._

* * *

  
She’d left a little later from her apartment in Paupers Drop then she’d like, but after the deal she’d just made with Fontaine she couldn’t really complain. The money she’d be making, even if it was just for a few weeks, well the little extra would be just perfect and then hopefully she’d be able to move out of that leaking wreck of a building and actually live somewhere nice. Maybe a little apartment off Market Street or High Street? Hey, Athena’s Square had some nice buildings and plenty of book stores nearby so she’d never get bored.   
  
Em couldn’t help the grin on her face, today hadn’t been as awful as she thought it would be and now she ran with a skip in her step. She didn’t even care if she was late, it would make a change, usually she was the one early.   
  
She left the Bathysphere and darted through Fort Frolic’s atrium to the regular little cocktail bar her, Kelly and Diane frequented. It wasn’t big or too fancy like most of the bars here and the alcohol wasn’t too expensive either, but there was a jukebox and a small dance floor for dancers and plenty of seats. It was ideal, nice and often filled with the air of the party no matter what time of day it was.   
  
True to her expectations, Kelly and Diane were already there, but there were three new women also with them, ones that Emilie hadn’t seen before and truth be told it made her a little nervous, but from Kelly’s enthusiastic wave and the friendly smiles thrown her way, she quickly lost the nerves and joined them.   
  
“Honestly, you are so late,” Kelly went on with a grin. “I beat you. _I_ beat _you_ here, that shouldn’t be possible. What were you up to?”   
  
“Nothing that would interest you, I’m afraid,” Em grinned back. “Just your usual work and making deals.”   
  
“With a man I hope.”   
  
“This man would not be the type I or anyone else should be interested in.”   
  
“Oh dear christ,” Kelly sighed. “I shall pray for your sorry love life every night, that is when it’s not giving me nightmares.”   
  
Em snorted. “What love life?”   
  
“Exactly my point,” Kelly gestured to her before turning her attention to the other girls at the table. “This woman has made a vow of chastitie in secret, I swear it. Look at her. Could be beating men away with a stick, the boys would be flocking but does she do anything about it? No, she just tinkers away with her little Hephestus buddies.”   
  
“Well I’d hate to steal your clientele, Kells,” Em laughed waving to the waiter so she could order her drink.   
  
Kelly Christie, Em’s closest and dearest friend was the exact opposite to Em herself. Where Em hid her figure under baggy overalls, t-shirts and work boots, her hair always pinned up and out of the way when she was working and indeed when she was walking through the city when she was on her way to and from work, Kelly showed her figure off, always in fitted pencil skirts and tops that pushed the goods up as it where, make up on her face and shoulder length hair waving and curled always styled around her face.   
  
Kelly used to be a secretary or book keeper topside, occasionally helping in making business deals go through because in truth Kelly was a very good business woman and knew how to use her charm and her looks to get anyone to say yes. Just a little bit of a pout and a fluttering of eyelashes and they’d be signing away their souls to her or her bosses without even realising what they had just signed. She’d impressed Ryan with how many contracts she’d gotten signed, how many deals she got pushed through, but in truth Kelly enjoyed it. She liked having all the male attention and sometimes if not all the time she would act on it. Take a man to bed with her nearly every night, send them packing in the morning, because she always took them back to her place declaring that she would never be the one doing the walk of shame as it were.   
  
Kelly had suffered a bad break up when she was younger, head over heels for a man who used her for as long as he was entertained and then left her with a broken heart and crushed reputation. She’d given it out before marriage after all, on many occasions to this man and after he left, he was declared a player and an absolute dog and she was declared a harlot.   
  
Well, sometimes in life you had to own the name you were given and it didn’t help that Kelly was friendly and flirty by nature, so instead of trying desperately to prove she was not what they called her, an impossible task, she instead embraced it, embraced the names and the reputation she’d get along with it, but mostly she embraced turning the tables.   
  
A man broke her heart and sent her packing, she decided to turn the tables and break the men’s hearts instead. She sometimes would see a few other people more than once if they were polite enough and she’d actually enjoyed it, but most of the time she’d only ever be with someone once.   
  
Now down in Rapture there was no judgement for her behaviour or at least no outspoken judgement and Kelly was thriving in the bedroom department and her work wasn’t too bad either.   
  
She worked as a booker keeper for Augustus Sinclair, the work was nice and simple, file away a complaint here, issue an agreement there and send eviction notices when needed, but the pay wasn’t the same as she’d had topside so she was looking for other employment while also angling for a pay rise. Kelly had mentioned she was going to have a little business meeting with Sinclair at some point and Em wasn’t going to go about asking for details as she was certain she already knew.   
  
For now though, Kelly was sitting, throwing her head back in laughter and wearing a little number that showed off all her best bits but would allow for dancing later and probably other activities that Em didn’t really want to think about.   
  
“Em, I adore you, but I wouldn’t need to worry about you stealing my clientele, as you so put it, even if you showed a little leg more often.”   
  
“Some of the mugs I’ve seen coming out of your apartment, not sure I’d want to.”   
  
She wagged a finger at her. “Now, now,” she scolded lightly. “Don’t be so harsh on my boys, granted some are boring as sin, but I’ll give anything a go once and for some it is well and truly once. Like Carson, I can assure you ladies, that he is neither well endowed below the belt or any good with the tool either.”   
  
Diane looked positively scandalised and Em had put her head in her hands, mumbling in her native tongue while one of the new comers cackled, quickly trying to quieten down so not to disturbed any of the other patrons.   
  
“Before, you divulge us on any other horror stories from the pit you call a bedroom,” Em interrupted, trying to keep her voice even despite the fact that she wanted to laugh too at Kelly’s rather crude sense of humour, she gestured to the new comers. “I think you need to introduce us.”   
  
“Right of course, well,” Kelly pointed to Diane. “This is Diane.”   
  
“Yes we’ve met.”   
  
“Don’t interrupt me,” Kelly said before pointing to the woman next to her. “This is Rosa, a quite frankly too beautiful to be a nurse, nurse.”   
  
“A nurse nurse huh? Never heard of one of those, what’s her profession?”   
  
“Oh shush you. This is her also devilishly good-looking sister, Opal, I have to ask what do you use to keep your skin looking so healthy? I need it. It is an essential item I must possess. Tell me after! Not now, I don’t want any of these trouble makers hearing the secret.”   
  
Diane raised an eyebrow. “Says the woman who just commented on a man’s weapon of choice.”   
  
“A rather weak weapon, if you ask me, I can control that thing with just a wink, it’s really not that impressive and did you-.”   
  
“Kelly, focus.”   
  
“Oh, right, yes and this lovely final lady is Cameal, an equally lovely ballerina! I’ve seen her practicing she should be doing a show all by herself.”   
  
Em looked over each woman in turn.   
  
Rosa was a coco skinned, African American, with gorgeous hazel eyes and a warm smile, her hair was done simple and neat, clearly she came right after her shift at the Medical Pavilion and had slipped a nice green dress on before heading out. Her sister, Opal, had her hair done up in some sort of fancy do, letting a few strands curl at the front, beautiful earrings sparkled and glistened in the light and she was in a sequinned orange and black dress. Her eyes were a darker shade than Rosa’s but just as welcoming and warm.   
  
Finally Cameal was dressed in a light baby pink dress, her sandy blonde hair was pulled up out of her face and a string of pearls hung from her neck. She had a blush coating her face and let out a little nervous laugh at the compliments Kelly was gushing out.   
  
“Pleasure to meet you all,” Em smiled. “What is it that you do, Opal?”   
  
“I’m a singer hun,” Opal spoke, voice rich and warm, almost reminded Em of syrup as she went on. “I work on nights at the El Darado Lounge.”   
  
“In Ryan Amusements?”   
  
“That’s right. Hoping to work my way up to sing here one day or the Fleet Hall, now that would be something, but if I’m being honest, I much prefer a smokey bar. Just think it’s got the right kind of atmosphere and I love mingling with the crowd.”   
  
“You should pop by the Limbo Room in the Drop,” Emilie said, taking her drink that the waiter had brought to her. “If you want a smokey bar feel. My friend Grace sings there herself, mostly jazz songs.”   
  
“Ohh.. now I do love me some jazz,” Opal grinned. “What’d you say sis? Wanna dust that old gown down and do a bit of a double act down at the drop? Be a little like topside…”   
  
“Oh, you know I’m not as good as you,” Rosa laughed. “You were always so much better and I like just listening now days. Besides, half the time I come back from work I’m dead on my feet. Too dead to dance and certainly too dead to sing.”   
  
“Oh no one’s too dead to dance,” Kelly grinned. “So you used to sing together?”   
  
“Topside we did,” Rosa smiled. “But I’ve always wanted to be a nurse. It’s been my dream since I was a little girl, but never could because… well reasons… but here I can,” she took a sip of her drink as she went on. “I work in the Medical Pavilion, under Doctor Steinman.”   
  
“Steinman? You mean the plastic surgeon?” Diane asked, flicking the ash from her cigarette into the tray.   
  
“Yes, he’s a genius! The things he can do!” Rosa’s eyes shone with admiration and wonder as she recounted, quite enthusiastically about a patient just last week who needed their nose doing and in a few hours Steinman had fixed them up and when they came for their bandages to be removed, well they looked like a different woman entirely and no visible scaring left behind, you wouldn’t even be able to tell.   
  
“Although,” she went on with a pause. “You do get some that come in one too many times. Their faces.. hardly moves. It’s like they didn’t know when to stop and they’re mostly plastic more than person.”   
  
“They’d probably melt if they came anywhere near where I work,” Em joked, Kelly giggled behind her hand, catching the eye of the waiter that walked past and shot him a little wink and a smile.   
  
Opal shook her head. “That poor boy isn’t going to know what hit him if he leaves with you.”   
  
“I’m- I’m sorry, _if_ he leaves with me? Honey there’s no doubt about it, he’s leaving with me and then tomorrow he’ll be leaving without me. Those are the rules of any engagement.”   
  
“The rules of your engagement, you mean.”   
  
“Oh you can’t go telling me that Miss Opal Delores hasn’t had a few Johns in her time? Miss singer of the bar.”   
  
Opal smirked before winking at her. “Oh I don’t kiss and tell.”   
  
“How very boring,” Kelly turned her attention to Diane. “What about you Diane? Going to share what it’s like to spend your nights with a millionaire?”   
  
Diane narrowed her eyes. “You already know the answer to that,” she paused and looked a little uncertain, bitting her lip and looking away from the table. “Truth be told… I feel like me and Andrew have drifted a little… I think he’s planning on leaving me.”   
  
“Leaving you?” Cameal asked sounding a tiny bit too hopeful, it made Em raise an eyebrow at her and the woman ducked her head blushing slightly.   
  
Kelly looked positively confused. “Leaving you? Is the man insane? What… why would he even be thinking of that? I mean, look at you, you’re clearly a catch. He’d have to be positively committed if he thought leaving you was a good idea.”   
  
“You’re probably right,” Diane sighed and brightened up, smiling at them but it was tight. “Still, Em… this deal that seemed to make you so late? I can’t imagine Andrew is changing your contract.”   
  
“Oh no,” Emilie smiled at that, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I actually got a deal with none other than Frank Fontaine.”   
  
Mixed reactions. Kelly almost did a spit take, Diane looked shocked, mouth opening and closing several times, Opal looked impressed and curious, Rosa looked worried and Cameal looked a combination of impressed and worried.   
  
“I- excuse me?!” Kelly spluttered. “You got a deal with Frank Fontaine and you didn’t think that should be your opening greeting? Yes girls sorry I’m late I was just making a deal with the _second most powerful man in Rapture_. You didn’t think to lead with that?”   
  
Em shrugged. “It didn’t seem that important.”   
  
“What on earth does he even need an electrical engineer for?” Diane asked with a frown.   
  
“One of his subs got busted while the guy was parking it,” she shrugged. “Needs someone to fix it up. I’m not just an electrical engineer, I’m a mechanic too and it won’t be that hard to fix a fishing sub. I start tomorrow, after work,” she tapped at her glass with a frown on her face. “Only problem is now I’m working close to Peachy which… I’m none too pleased about but beggars can’t be choosers.”   
  
“Hold up… you said he was the type of man no woman should be interested in- why didn’t you flirt your way into his bed?!”   
  
“ _Frank Fontaine_ … are you mad?”   
  
“What? Oh so I suggest you should’ve had a nice little role in the hay with a bald man and suddenly _I’m_ the crazy one?”   
  
“What does being bald have anything to do with-?”   
  
“Well,” Kelly interrupted with a coy smile and a little wink. “You know what they say about bald men.”   
  
Em stared back at her with a blank look, mouth in a straight thin line.   
  
“W-what do they say about bald men?” Cameal asked tentatively, looking a little like a deer in headlights and a light blush coated her features. She was probably not the right person to have at this conversation, not that Kelly would take that in to consideration, not while a devilish smirk curled its way onto her face.   
  
“Stamina, baby! It’s all about stamina and bald men… well let me tell you, frows of passion for hours! Which is why-“   
  
“I have no desire to be in the ‘frows of passion’ for hours on end,” Em stated. “I have other more entertaining things to do with my time.”   
  
“Such as?”   
  
“Reading.”   
  
“… You’re a lost cause.”

* * *

  
Sullivan had to deal with a lot of things in Rapture. _A lot._   
  
Mostly it was the headache of working out what was legal and what wasn’t. Topside you couldn’t grow cocaine and sell it legally, down in Rapture, as long as you grew it here, you could do whatever you wanted with the stuff. Keep it or sell it.   
  
It was a headache he didn’t need.   
  
This though, this was clear cut certainly not aloud to do ever, because as Mister Ryan would put it, ‘only parasites steal’ and here he was, staining outside a jewellery store where the most expensive jewel the owner had, was now missing. The owner of the shop was cursing out the Rapture security, going on about how it just wasn’t right and whoever did this was an animal.   
  
Sullivan was inclined to disagree, as he looked over the crime scene, because one thing he noticed was the evidence or lack there of. This had been professionally done. No evidence, no trace, nothing.   
  
A good thief and a headache for Sullivan, since he had a feeling Ryan would be down on his head on this, especially if he didn’t get it wrapped up quickly.   
  
As if his day couldn’t get any worse, Stanley Poole from the Rapture Tribune was walking over to him, nervous smile on his face, pen and paper ready for note taking. Sullivan then and there decided he didn’t get paid enough and would be having a very long drink after this.   
  
“Can I get a quote, Chief?”   
  
“How ‘bout, ‘no comment’.”   
  
Poole’s smile dropped but he pushed on regardless. “Oh c’mon Chief, we all gotta make a little scratch right? News is my scratch like securities yours, so c’mon… help a brother out?”   
  
“I don’t have the patience or the time, Poole. Beat it,” he went walking past him, casually mentioning to the boys to clean up the scene and deliver all the evidence to his office. “Go and write ‘bout some giddy socialite.” 

“No one wants to hear about that, not when there’s a jewellery robber… I’m thinking of naming it the ‘Rapture Robberies’ or.. or ‘terror of the deep’? What ya think?”   
  
“I think the Tribune should hire better writers.”   
  
Poole’s shoulders slumped completely and he pushed his hat up off his face with his pen.   
  
Stanley Poole. Not a single soul in Rapture liked the man, Sullivan was sure of it. Hell, he didn’t even think Stanley liked himself too much. He skulked around, weasely face always nosing into other people’s business, trying desperately to get the next big scoop to write about, usually to embarrass or scandalise the person the article was written about. Sullivan had been called to the Tribune offices too many times, usually to break up some sort of confrontation between Poole and a resident none to happy about how Poole had written them. Actually saying it was a confrontation was being too kind, it was more a full on beat down of Stanley and yet the man did not know when to quit.   
  
“If there’s a thief in Rapture.. don’t you think the people have a right to know? I mean, lot of folks have some pretty shiny and expensive things… wouldn’t want them going missing would they?”   
  
“No, but I can think of _something_ I’d like to go _missing_ ,” the security chief bit out as he shot Poole a deeply annoyed look.   
  
The reporter seemed to get the message and held his hands up in defence. “I meant no offence- just ya know people have a right to know and-.”   
  
“Making more folks panic sells better papers, yeah I know,” Sullivan walked right up to Stanley, secretly delighting in the fact the man curled in on himself under the glare Sullivan was bearing down on him. “But you best not forget, Poole, we’re in the ocean, if there’s a riot or… heaven forbid a panic of any kind… where the hell are people gonna go? No where. My boys and me maybe too busy, if we’re dealing with that to deal with any other altercations at the Tribune. Would like to see how well you’d walk out of those then… wouldn’t you?”   
  
That seemed to get it through to him and he scampered off quickly and Sullivan was pleased to see him go.   
  
A rat like Poole, Sullivan didn’t even know what he was doing here, he wasn’t like the rest of the citizens… certainly not like any of Ryan’s ilk, but he was here and that meant Sullivan had to deal with him. No matter how much he hated it.   
  
Though now there was a thief in Rapture, a good one and that just added to the laundry list Sullivan had to get through. Ryan had asked him to keep an eye on the fisheries a little more closely too, especially after a few things decidedly not Rapture born and bread, had been found in people’s possessions, but when asked they always said they came down with it. That was impossible since some of the things had been food. Fresh food.   
  
Hopefully the thief would distract Ryan, even if it did put more pressure on Sullivan, because the Chief of security hated taking people who clearly had smuggled in goods. He didn’t see what problem it was, but Ryan had a problem with it and Ryan paid the bills so he went along with it.   
  
That didn’t meant it had to sit right with him, but he had a job to do and as long as Ryan was paying him, he’d do it. No questions asked.

* * *

  
Reggie was looking pretty damn smug with himself. A little too smug, for Frank’s liking, especially when he was about to loose.   
  
Fontaine raised an eyebrow at the much bigger man, while he rubbed chalk on the end of the poole cue, before looking down at the pool table in question.   
  
The table sat at the back of the entertainment room, a mini bar sat next to it and a couple of sofas lay at the very front with a small table in between. Hanging on the wall were the comforting images of New York and Frank would never of called him a sentimentalist but damn did he miss New York.   
  
Rapture was nice and all, it had been good to him in the few months he’d been here, but New York was a totally different league. Rapture didn’t compare to it, so it was nice to have the little reminders of home.   
  
Limey had settled herself on the sofa, even decided to break out the sherry and read which was odd. _Very odd_.   
  
The reason? Well Frank knew for a fact after the years of growing up around the woman, that Limes only ever drank sherry when she was celebrating, but celebrating what? She also held a pretty pleased and smug look on her face as she casually flicked the page in her book, taking a little sip of the sherry, hell she looked like she was going to start humming at any given moment and then Frank would honestly be a little concerned because it was sorta scary when that woman was happy. Mostly because Limey didn’t do ‘happy’ in the normal sense and a much smaller, much younger Fontaine had been quite put off by it.   
  
He didn’t know you could watch a comedy show on stage and not laugh once, Limey proved him that you could. If he recalled correctly, little Frankie had sat the whole bus ride home, squished between Reggie and the window, staring at her like she was some sort of demonic entity because Reggie was still laughing quietly to himself at the time and Limey just… nothing.   
  
So yes, seeing her in such a clear good mood to the point she was almost humming a little tune did set Frank’s nerves off just a little bit.   
  
“I got ya good this time.” 

Frank turned his attention back to the game at hand and back to Reggie who was grinning at him, still looking a little too smug.   
  
On the table Frank was, well he couldn’t hit any of his balls, all of Reggie’s pretty much blocked it so he would more than likely hit the bruisers before he hit his own, but well…. Reggie had forgotten one little thing about how Frank played.   
  
Carefully he lined up the shot, aiming for his ball which was behind Reggie’s and as he shot he angled the cue down and made the white ball hop over Reggie’s and hit his instead. Sure it didn’t go in, but it was enough to make Frank smirk and Reggie to look decidedly unimpressed.   
  
“What was that yous was sayin’ Reggie?”   
  
Reggie’s eye twitched a little, but he got ready to take his own shot instead.   
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that?” Frank egged him on. “I thought you said you got me good? Weren’t those your words?”   
  
“Taught you ta play pool at the age of thirteen and you still do that cheap shot,” the bruiser mumbled. “How many times I gotta tell ya?”   
  
“Almost sounds like you’re scoldin’ me there Reggie… thought I was in charge.”   
  
“You are, boss,” Reggie said lightly before looking up with a slight glare. “ _Except_ when it comes to pool.”   
  
“Just admit it, you’re mad because he’s better at it than you,” Limey spoke from the comfort of her seat, not even looking up at them and turned another page.   
  
“I taught him!”   
  
Frank leaned on the pool cue smiling. “Bet ya wish you hadn’t now, huh?”   
  
Yeah, when Frank wanted to, he could be a right little shit. Like the little ten year old brat Limey and Reggie had saved that one winter, for some unknown reason and then got stuck with.   
  
It had been a very long time since Frank had been that ten year old tyke, but occasionally, in the comfort of present company and his own home, he’d let it out. Just a little.   
  
“Taught him how to shoot, taught him how to play pool and throw a punch and then the little…”   
  
“The a little what?”   
  
Reggie looked up at him, mouth in a tight, thin line. “You know what.”   
  
“Oh, Reggie, you’ll hurt my feelings saying stuff like that.”   
  
“You don’t have any feelings,” Limey replied bluntly making Frank raise and eyebrow.   
  
“So says, the stone faced woman,” he replied with his own bluntness. “You’re hardly one to talk.”   
  
“I’m in a good mood at the moment, Francis, don’t ruin it.”   
  
“Yes, old girl, about that,” Frank said, slipping an over exaggerated British accent that he knew got right up Limey’s nose. Setting the cue to the side and sitting so he faced her and the glare she now wore, he continued. “Why is that? What’s got Katherine so happy?”   
  
Limey took a carefully measured sip of her sherry. “Well for starters, you called me Katherine. Honestly I sometimes do wonder if you even remember what my name actually is, considering you insist on using that horrendous nick name.”   
  
“Hey blame the wall over there,” he pointed to Reggie who seemed to be working out how to make the balls jump since Frank had abandoned the game. “He’s the one who gave you that name. I just copied him.”   
  
“No one told you to do that.”   
  
“No, but since you insist on using that fuckin’ name for me-.”   
  
“You mean your actual name?”   
  
Fontaine glared at her, taking a breath and then continuing. “Not my name. Anyway, why are you-.”   
  
“It is your name,” she looked up at him and let herself smirk. “Francis.”   
  
Okay. Okay, she wanted to play it like that did she? Well she was certainly in a happy mood if she was antagonising him like this, for some reason Limey took sick pleasure out of poking at his name. Only person alive who called him Francis, mostly because Frank had killed everyone else who ever did, but Limey had special privileges. No matter how much he detested it.   
  
He had tried, of course, to get her to call him Frank, but the woman was too damn stubborn and in the end it became a game. She’d call him Francis and he’d call her Limey.   
  
Still it was Reggie’s fault, he’d introduced her as Limey to Frank at the age of ten and after that… well the rest is history.   
  
“Why are you in such a good mood?” He asked, ignoring her bait entirely. “It’s not like you to be this happy. What’s goin’ on? Who died? Someone died, didn’t they?”   
  
“No. Can’t I be in a good mood?”   
  
“No, you can’t because you aren’t ever in a good mood…” he frowned at her. “Last time I ever saw you this happy….”

* * *

  
 _Autumn of 1932._   
  
_Frankie wandered through the apartment silently, rubbing at his eyes as he went to get a glass of water. It was a surprisingly warm night for autumn and the boy had woken up in the middle of the night, thirsty. Just as he reached the sink, the front door opened and in stepped Limey._  
  
 _She wasn’t dressed in clothes Frankie would usually associate her with. Limey wore neat collared blouses, with cardigans and skirts, not a long black over coat with soft, what looked like black ballet pumps and long black gloves._  
  
 _Both froze and stared at each other for a whole minute until Limey slowly closed the door, locking it almost silently and then they went back to staring at each other._  
  
 _“Francis.”_  
  
 _“Limey.”_  
  
 _“What are you doing up at this time?”_  
  
 _“Getting’ a glass o’ water. You?”_  
  
 _“I was out.”_  
  
 _Twelve year old Frank blinked. “You? We’re out?” He placed the water down. “What were you doing out at…” he looked at the clock and stared at it for a good two minutes before mumbling. “This time-.”_  
  
 _“Twelve forty five.”_  
  
 _“That’s what I said.”_  
  
 _“Quite,” she smirked slightly before shrugging. “I told you, Francis. I was out. A woman can have a few secrets can’t she? I do go out sometimes, why just yesterday I went to the museum.”_  
  
 _“Yeah, that’s a Limey day out. You don’t go out, out.”_  
  
 _“Oh I do… you’re just usually asleep. Speaking of, off to bed with you,” she waved him towards his room and Frank rolled his eyes._  
  
 _“Limey, c’mon-“_  
  
 _“What have I told you? You use all twenty six letters in the alphabet.”_  
  
 _He groaned and threw his hands up, grabbing the water and leaving to his room. He heard Limey leave to her own room a bit later and dropped off to sleep soon after._  
  
 _In the morning, Reggie was listening to the radio like always and Limey was making breakfast. She was humming too and Frank stared at the back of her as he took in the sight of Limey happy. Limey really happy. He’d never seen her like this, he swears she was almost smiling._  
  
 _He felt a shiver go down his spine._  
  
 _Limey didn’t smile._  
  
 _It was a weird little family Frankie had made. Limey was neat, prim and proper, drank her tea with her pinky out. Reggie was sitting with her braces hanging down and sleeves rolled up._  
  
 _Chalk and cheese._  
  
 _Frank fit somewhere in the middle._  
  
 _“Mornin’, Frankie.”_  
  
 _“Good morning, Francis.”_  
  
 _“Yeah… mornin’..ning! Morning!”_  
  
 _“Very good.”_  
  
 _Reggie smirked at the boy, leaning over to turn up the volume on the radio. The reporter was bawling about some diamond that had been stolen from the museum and Reggie hummed to himself, turning slightly to Limey. “You should probs’ stay away from that museum, Limes. You sure been goin’ a lit.”_  
  
 _“Yes. Such a shame, that diamond was exquisite,” she turned around with breakfast, pointedly ignoring Frank’s wide eyed stare as the boy easily began piecing everything together._  
  
 _“Well, I better go to work,” Reggie said as he got up, sliding his braces on and grabbing his coat and flat cap on the way out. “See ya later.”_  
  
 _“Goodbye, Reginald.”_  
  
 _“See ya, Reggie…”_  
  
 _They were silent again once he’d gone, Limey sat enjoying her breakfast and Frank continued to stare at her. He couldn’t believe it. He honestly couldn’t believe that Limey, of all people, was.. had…._  
  
 _“Is there something on my face, Francis?”_  
  
 _“You weren’t visiting the museum… yous was casin’ the joint!” He cried. “You’re a thief! One o’ those… cat burglar types.”_  
  
 _“If you’re quite done-.”_  
  
 _“No I ain’t done! I wanna learn!” He continued, looking excited as a grin slipped on his face. “I didn’t know you did this kind of thing, Limey! I didn’t know ya did fun stuff. Thought you just sat around reading and drinking tea.”_  
  
 _“That is fun,” she sniffed, taking a sip of tea. “And I am not teaching you. You pickpocket anyway, what could I teach you?”_  
  
 _“So you admit it!” His grin widened. “Sure, I pick pocket but I ain’t never robbed a museum- holy shit you_ robbed a museum _!”_  
  
 _“Language!”_  
  
 _“You’re yellin’ cause of my language when we’re talking’ bout you robbing a museum,” Frank got out of his seat and ran round to her grinning. “Limey, we’re gonna be rich!”_  
  
 _“No. We’re not. I don’t see what I steal.”_  
  
 _The boy looked shocked, before it melted into confused. “Then what the hell do ya steal it for?!”_  
  
 _Her eyes lit up then and she smiled. Actually smiled and Frank felt himself leaning back a little from the manic grin he was being presented with on the face of a woman who wouldn’t so much as blink, sometimes._  
  
 _“For the fun! For the challenge!”_

* * *

  
In present time, Frank and Limey stared at each other much like they had all those years ago, when he’d caught her sneaking back in.   
  
“I’m only going to ask this once…”   
  
_Smash!_   
  
They both jumped and stared at Reggie, who was still frozen in the same position he’d been in to take the shot but his focus was now on the mini bar and the broken bottles. Alcohol poured onto the flood and in the middle of the mess of booze and broken glass, sat a lonely pool ball.   
  
“Whoops.”   
  
“The hell did you do?!”  
  
Reggie turned to them both with wide eyes. “I flicked the ball up.”   
  
Limey took a sip of her sherry. “I think you overshot.”   
  
“Don’t know my own strength sometimes,” the man went on, looking sheepishly at Frank. “Sorry boss.”   
  
Honestly if it had been anyone else… Frank’s eye twitched regardless, but he calmed himself down, just about. “Reggie…”   
  
“I’ll clean it up.”   
  
“Damn right you will.”   
  
“Was an accident.”   
  
“Bull in a fuckin’ china shop,” Fontaine groused, rubbing at his eyes. “Jesus Christ. Reggie if you had the ability to be subtle, you’d be deadly.”   
  
“You two have fun with that.”   
  
He span around to see Limey had vacated her seat and was now making her way down the stairs towards the front door and her coat. She also seemed to be in a bit of a hurry but Frank was quick to follow her, calling out her name, which she blatantly ignored.   
  
“I ain’t chasin’ ya, Limey!”   
  
“Then I’d suggest you stop running.”   
  
“The hell were you thinkin’?!”   
  
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“What did you steal this time?!”   
  
She paused, before continuing to slip her coat on. “I always hated the word ‘steal’, I prefer acquired. Sounds so much better.”   
  
“Limey-.”   
  
“Don’t worry, Francis. I- how would you put it?” She paused before snapping her fingers, a smile on her face. “Ah! Yes! I have all the _kinks_ worked out.”

* * *

  
_Katherine ‘Limey’ Michaels,_   
  
_Finish the scrapbook:_   
  
_Topside I was one of the greatest cat burglars around. Never caught, a clean record, still have all my… ill gotten gains as well as my scrapbook of newspaper articles… but the scrapbook is not full. Oh and I do so hate to leave things incomplete._


	4. Rag Mop

_Peach Wilkins,_

_Norsky engineer:_   
  
_The damn Norsky engineer came strutting in here like she owned the place, even traded words with Fontaine like it was no big deal. We thought she was done for, dead in a ditch for sure. She walked out without a problem. She even had a smile on her face._

* * *

  
Christ on a stick they had really messed this sub up, Emilie was still working on it, even now. She thought it would be a weeks job at best, but here she was two weeks later still trying to fix the damn thing. It was almost like whenever she left it for the night, she’d come back and all her hard work had been undone.   
  
She mumbled under her breath and uttered a few curses as she tried tightening up one of the screws. Her eyes drifted up at the flicker of light and she watched the fishery workers walk past her carrying great big boxes. They all eyed her, nothing polite of course, no ‘good morning’ or ‘afternoon’ or any sort of greeting, nope she didn’t get that. Never would.   
  
“What’s the Norsky still doing here? Ain’t you supposed to be the ‘best’, sure sounds like, the way you sold it to the boss.”   
  
Em ground her teeth together before looking over at Peach who was watching her like a hawk. “Damn thing keeps getting busted,” she replied sharply. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Peachy?”   
  
“Maybe the Norsky ain’t as good as she likes to make herself out to be.”   
  
“Maybe the idiot should shut up, before I throw a wrench at his head!”   
  
Peach backed up some but he didn’t leave and Em groaned inwardly, dropping her tools and turning to him completely.   
  
“The hell do you want, Peach?! Quit staring at me, I’m trying to get my work done!”   
  
“You don’t belong here.”   
  
“Oh dear god, not this again!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and counted to ten. “I am working. Do you understand that? I’m working for Fontaine and as soon as this is done I can leave, you won’t see me except for the Tavern and that’s it.”   
  
Peach and Em had never gotten along, probably because they’d started off on the wrong foot entirely. All because of a game of pool, after that he hated her, despised her with a passion and would make it known whenever she was at the Fighting McDonagh.   
  
Now here he was, hovering over her shoulder, throwing curses and insults because he really couldn’t help himself when it came to her and she was equally ready to throw them back at him. Mostly because Em hated him as much as he hated her. That didn’t mean she appreciated him continuing this little spat while she was trying to work.   
  
Ignoring him for a moment, she looked back at the schematics and frowned slightly.   
  
There was something wrong with them. The measurements didn’t add up. The inside, according to her notes, did not match what it said on the blueprints, it should be a good two meters bigger on the inside than it was.   
  
“While you’re there, why not make yourself useful,” she snapped. “Can you get me the correct schematics, maybe that’s why I can’t get the damn thing fixed.”  
  
“Those are the right ones. Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.”   
  
Em got to her feet and pointed at the blue prints with her pen. “The measurements aren’t right, you buffoon! It’s smaller then that! Where are the right ones?!”   
  
Peach looked… nervous. Shifty. His eyes darted around, looking at anything except her. He shrugged nonkcomittedly and said snappily. “Maybe you measured it wrong.”   
  
Okay, that was it. Call her out on anything else, but call her work out? That was just asking for trouble.   
  
“Listen here you pathetic excuse of man!” She snarled and his head snapped up to glare at her, while she came marching up to him. “I do good work! Good damn work! I know I’m right, that sub is too small! It doesn’t add up! If you aren’t going to be useful, then get the hell out of my way and leave me in peace!”   
  
“You’ve got it wrong! Norsky ain’t as good as-.”   
  
“You call me Norsky one more time I’m gonna take that wrench and shove it so far up your-!”   
  
“Peachy.”   
  
Both turned to see Reggie standing at the top of the dock steps looking them over. He didn’t look happy, he was mostly glaring at Peach and the man shrunk back before sprinting away as fast as he could go.   
  
Em huffed and blew a strand of hair out of her face, her whole body deflating while she leaned back on her heels.   
  
“You alright, Ms Em?”   
  
“Just fine, Reggie. I know I’m not wrong…” she looked over the schematics. “But… these are for this sub but the measurements don’t…”   
  
“I wouldn’t read too much into it, Ms Em,” Reggie said helpfully. “As long as you know yous is right, what does a few scribbled blue prints gotta matter?”   
  
Despite herself, Em felt her mouth twitch up in a smile. Nodding along to what the bruiser was saying and folding the blue prints up, placing them on the floor and instead going over her notes.   
  
“Can I ask, Ms Em?”   
  
She looked up to watch Reggie walk over to her, he casted a glance in the direction Peach had gone with a thoughtful look on his face, before he turned back to her.   
  
“What exactly is it that you did to get Peach so riled up?”   
  
“Oh, you mean, why does he hate?”   
  
“Well… yeah?” He looked confused and it almost reminded Em of a puppy. “I ain’t never seen him so mad.”   
  
“Heh. Surprised you weren’t there when it happened,” Em commented lightly. “I seen you at Bill’s tavern- ah what do you Americans call it? A pub? No, no that’s Brits.. well you know where I mean. We were playing a game of pool, all friendly to start with. Fisheries against the electrical engineers. See it was funny because they got more power behind the shots, but we could do the angles or at least that’s how we sold it to them,” she laughed softly as she recalled the evening, one of the craziest she’d had. “Everything was great and going smoothly, even Bill wasn’t too stressed with the crowd and then it was me and Peach against each other…”   
  
Reggie seemed to see where this was going and allowed himself to smile, almost fondly. “You beat him didn’t ya?”   
  
“Between you and me Reggie, I wiped the floor with him,” she frowned at that, looking up from her notes. “He wasn’t too happy about it. Started calling out I was a cheat, all because he lost to a dame. Damn insecure bastard, pardon my language, but I got no other way to describe the man. So yeah, a fight broke out and ever since then, Peach has hated me.”   
  
“All because a pool game?”   
  
Em laughed loudly at that and sent Reggie a genuine smile, one she usually only saved for close friends and family members, if she had any family members left of course. Though, these few weeks, Reggie had been a rock she needed when she was down at the fisheries. He was so polite and would sometimes come down with a flask of coffee to keep her warm. One time he even brought her a hot chocolate.   
  
They’d developed a friendly sort of… well she wouldn’t call it a friendship of any kind since she was certain he was and would always be loyal to Fontaine, but he’d been nice and welcoming, treated her with respect which was a thing that came few and far between for her.   
  
Still, even now she felt comfortable enough to wink at him and smirk, while replying. “Nah. It wasn’t just the pool. I said a fight broke out didn’t I?” Em knelt down to get back to work, looking up at him with a grin. “I punched his lights out with one hook. Idiot’s got a glass jaw. He’s never lived it down and takes it out of my hide every time he sees me. Ego… men’s egos at least, are such fragile things, especially with a man like Peach.”   
  
Reggie smiled at her then, going through his pocket to bring out a packet of smokes. “Ya want one, Ms Em?”   
  
“You going sweet on me, Reggie?”   
  
He grinned at her. “Nah, I just like a dame who can hold her own.”   
  
He joined her sitting on the deck and the two of them smoked. It was quiet and peaceful, she actually quite enjoyed it, but her mind kept wandering back to the schematics and her own measurements.   
  
She knew she wasn’t wrong and she knew the schematics weren’t wrong… but they didn’t match up. This wasn’t a time for her to doubt her own skill, not with so much money on the line, but well… if she wasn’t wrong and the schematics weren’t wrong… that only left one option.   
  
It was an option that didn’t make much sense to her, after all, a successful businessman like Fontaine, why would he need it? Made no sense, but… she had heard whispers. Gossip. Talk of people having fresh meat in Rapture and not just the fish kind. Beef, pork, real tobacco and alcohol, not the cheap watered down shit you got in any of the Rapture bars. The real deal.   
  
Ryan wasn’t too happy about it, Sullivan had doubled up on security measures, obviously someone was smuggling in the goods…   
  
Em froze a moment, taking the cigarette from her lips and staring at it for a few moments, Reggie didn’t seem to notice. Too busy staring off into space.   
  
Quickly, she took another drag of the cigarette to make sure her taste buds weren’t playing tricks on her and when she exhaled the smoke out it was like a wave of ecstasy wash over her and her eyes closed in pure bliss. That taste was real. That was the taste of a real cigarette, not the fake stuff they sold in Rapture.   
  
She glanced down at the packet sticking out of Reggie’s pocket. It was a Rapture packet, but those were not Rapture cigarettes, not at all. Glancing back at the sub, everything fell into place and she took another drag from the illegal, but quite frankly, heavenly goods she held between her fingers. Taking a moment, she thought on how she was going to approach this little development and what it meant that Reggie had shared an illegal cigarette with her.   
  
Probably meant that she was now stuck in too deep with the rest of them.   
  
Still…   
  
“There’s a secret compartment, isn’t there?”   
  
Next to her, he froze a little, hand poised in mid air with the cigarette smoking between his fingers, almost like a smoking gun.   
  
Slowly the stiffness left him, but he didn’t look at her, stubbing the smoke out and getting to his feet. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”   
  
“And why’s that?”   
  
“Because I like ya, Ms Em,” he turned to her with a smile. “But just cause I like ya… don’t mean nothin’ to the boss. If he wants ya gone, ya gone. So you best keep your head down and your mouth shut.”   
  
“That a threat?”   
  
“Friendly advice,” he tipped his flat cap to her. “You take care now.”   
  
He started to walk off, heading back to the fisheries main entrance, she supposed she should count her lucky stars he didn’t just kill her right then and there.   
  
“Hey, Reggie?”   
  
He stopped and turned to her with a questioning look and she rose her hand with the cigarette in answer.   
  
“Got any more of these?”  
  
Reggie smiled and fished the packet out of his pocket before he tossed them to her, which she was grateful she was able to catch them.   
  
“Keep it. A little somethin’ extra.”   
  
“Where can a girl get more of these?”   
  
“You do good work,” Reggie teased. “I may put in a good word… get ya a discount.”   
  
“Reggie, you’re a diamond.”

* * *

  
“I can’t believe you got me into this mess.”   
  
“Me? You were the one who-.”   
  
“Who, what Daniel?” Kyburz challenged him, glaring over the top of the electric board he was working on. “You said, let’s get a drink, everything’s going to be fine, but then, ya got yourself too drunk and flirted with the women and got us chucked out!”   
  
“Pretty certain you cursed the bar tender out,” Daniel replied miserably. “I’ve started to go to the El Darado Lounge… there’s this amazing singer there-“   
  
“I don’t want to hear it,” the Australian snapped, he was still pretty angry after Daniel got him mixed up in this business.   
  
Augustus Sinclair had approached them after they found themselves in his store down Fort Frolic. Easy marks for a man like Sinclair and Kyburz honestly couldn’t believe that he’d been that stupid or that drunk to even agree to this. Then again, he did vaguely remember Sinclair feeding them drinks and then the rest of it got fuzzy.   
  
Next thing he remembered clearly was waking up at the Atlantic Express train station in Paupers drop, to a killer headache, a certain Daniel Warren resting and drooling on his shoulder and Em looking both amused and exasperated with them both. Her friend Kelly had been with her and she just found the whole situation amusing.   
  
_‘I swear they’re not my friends,’ Em had said, face palming and mumbling in her native tongue._  
  
 _‘Well, honey, I don’t see anyone else claimin’ them as theirs,’ Kelly had chirped. ‘Maybe there’s a reason for that.’_   
  
When they’d both come round a bit more, Kyburz and Daniel both found signed contracts in their jumpsuit pockets as well as Sinclair’s business card, suggesting they call him. Which they did and soon found out just what they had signed themselves up for.   
  
Both Daniel and himself had tried to back out of it, to reason with Sinclair that they’d been drunk when they signed that piece of paper and made the deal, but the smug southern bastard was quick to point out that the only people who knew that were him, Daniel and Kyburz. A piece of paper wasn’t going to speak their case, because they’d signed the damn thing and it certainly didn’t scream that they’d been drunk when they’d signed.   
  
So, now they were stuck after hours doing work on Sinclair’s new building which, if Kyburz was being honest with himself, gave him the chills. It was so dark this side of Rapture and the building itself was tucked away from the rest of the city. You wouldn’t be able to see it, if you didn’t know to look for it.   
  
There was also the trench. The big gaping hole in the sea bed that this building lay suspended over the top of, just waiting for someone to drop the whole thing deep into the briny.   
  
Kyburz thought it was a pretty odd place to put a building. Whenever he walked along the glass and metal gangways between the main building and the entrance, he always felt nauseous, especially since out of the corner of his eye he’d always see that gaping darkness of the trench. Darkness like that just seemed to swallow you up… swallow anything up. He didn’t even see any sea life go into it or come out of it.   
  
To put it simply, Sinclair’s new little investment, which he’d dubbed ‘Persephone’, scared Kyburz. Its location, its walkways, hell even its name made him nervous. Such a stupid thing, but the name… Persephone… a goddess who could never leave…   
  
He shook his head to get rid of any more intrusive thoughts. He didn’t like thinking too much, his brain ended up taking him places he really didn’t want to go.   
  
“Hey, ya reckon’ Sinclair’s going to get any more workers?” Daniel piped up and for once Kyburz was grateful the man had a habit of talking, got himself out of his own head.   
  
“Probably,” he replied, he looked down at the rest of the building out of the round port hole window of the main control room. “We’d sure need it. I mean look at this place. It’s huge!” He put the electrical board down and wandered out onto one of the walkways, leaning on the railing overlooking the small almost court yard like area below. “Just what do you suppose Sinclair is gonna use this place for anyway? I can’t see much foot traffic coming this way. Most of Rapture doesn’t even know this building’s here.”   
  
“I know,” Daniel frowned slightly, wandering out to join him. “You can’t even see it, ya know how you can see most of Rapture’s big buildings? This place… it’s like hidden. Almost like a dirty little secret, ya know?”   
  
So it wasn’t just him. Daniel had noticed it too.   
  
“You know…” Daniel went on, looking down one of the corridors, before he glanced at some of the oddly shaped rooms. “Back topside I did some work in a few prisons… just little things, like fixing locking mechanisms and control boards in the warden’s offices.. nothing too bad. It paid well too, that’s what counted-.”   
  
“Daniel, where are you going with this?” Kyburz interrupted him.   
  
Daniel shrugged a little, but his face looked solemn. “This place.. sorta reminds me of that. Of the prisons. Those walkways and them rooms over there. I’ve seen something similar in a few prisons topside. Even that place,” he hooked a thumb at the main control hub. “Reminds me of a few of the warden offices I worked on.”   
  
“You think… Sinclair’s building a prison?”   
  
“I don’t know.. maybe?” The man looked confused, scratching at his head. “You’ve seen the plans right? Awful lot of bulkheads… awful lot of security too. Sinclair wants a camera near enough on every floor. Covering stair cases, junctions, that’s how a prison works.”   
  
Kyburz thought about it and Daniel wasn’t wrong. He’d only heard little bits and seen a few plans and schematics of prisons, but the bits he had seen were an awful lot like the plans they were working from. The only thing that didn’t make any sense was what exactly did Sinclair have to gain out of building a prison? It was Rapture, it wasn’t topside. Sure there’d been some friendly competition and some things had gotten out of hand.. like the Grocery Store owners… but things had calmed down since then. Things were settled.   
  
_Mostly_ settled.   
  
He’d heard whispers of smuggled in goods and his mind instantly went straight to Frank Fontaine and then it went to Em… and that’s when he started to panic.   
  
What if she got mixed up in some business? Not that Kyburz had a problem with the goods that had been brought in, beef and chicken he’d heard, but it didn’t matter what he thought. Ryan wouldn’t have it. Ryan hated the very idea of any contact with the surface, so someone bringing in stolen goods..? Well Kyburz was very glad he wasn’t that man because he didn’t want to know just what Ryan would have planned for the poor bastard once he caught him.   
  
“What do you think?”   
  
“Hm?”   
  
Daniel gestured around him. “What do you think he’s going to be doing with this place?”   
  
“I…” the Aussie paused a second, frowning deeply. Did he know? Did he _want_ to know? Things were pretty lax in Rapture… science in particular was lax and.. “Maybe it’s a hospital?”   
  
“A hospital?”   
  
“Yeah… ya know.. a hospital?” He shrugged. “Population in Rapture grows.. can’t all go to the medical pavilion can you? Gonna be a lot of folks sick or… you know maybe the medical pavilion will just be a cosmetics surgery? Might as well be, given how much control I hear Steinman’s got over the place.”   
  
Daniel didn’t look convinced but he smiled some and got a mischievous look in his eyes, made him look quite boyish.   
  
_Crikey_ , Kyburz thought, _If he hit the ladies with a smile like that he’d have them falling at his feet._   
  
“Yeah, probably be a lot of people sick.. having to walk over those gangways,” he chuckled, nudging Kyburz in the ribs with his elbow. “Cause you sure look sick whenever you walk across them. Thought it was the light at first, but nah, ya positively green.”   
  
“Yeah? I ain’t gonna tell you what your face looks like drunk.”   
  
“When you’re drunk or when I’m drunk?”   
  
“Both.”   
  
They shared a quick laugh, the noise reverberating off the walls, creating an echo. It made them both stop and listen as their voices carried and bounced off the walls before going quiet again, only the sounds of dripping pipes and the ocean to be heard.   
  
“If it does get turned into a hospital… I sure wouldn’t want to have to stay over night…” Daniel whispered.   
  
“Yeah… I hear ya. Damn place gives me the creeps and that’s without remembering the sea trench underneath.”   
  
“That’s pretty weird though isn’t it?”   
  
“What?”   
  
Daniel pointed down at their feet. “The trench. This whole thing feels weird, Kyburz, I mean it feels so secret. Why build a building this size over a trench? I mean, it’s not like they ran out of room, couldda’ built it anywhere else or taken Rapture that direction,” he pointed towards one of the hallways. “Rest of the seabed that way, but no, they built it here. Over a trench. Doesn’t that feel… odd to you?”   
  
Kyburz didn’t want to think about it all too much, because he knew if he thought about it, he’d figure it out and he might not like the answer.   
  
“If it is a prison,” Daniel went on. “All they’d have to do is push a button, activate some charges and send the whole place-.”   
  
“Yeah but it’s gonna be a hospital, not a prison!”   
  
“You don’t know-.”   
  
“I don’t want to think about it, Daniel,” Kyburz snapped. “I don’t want to even consider the idea. Besides, we’re civilised human beings, what.. person in their right mind would do that?!”   
  
Daniel was silent, giving a shrug in response and if anything that irritated Kyburz to no end, but before he could say anything, the other spoke. “Between you and me… I don’t think all of Rapture’s in their right mind,” he looked at him again. “You ever seen Cohen?” Daniel tapped at his temple. “Metal case. I swear it. Hell I think all those artist types are nutso.”   
  
“Oh yeah? You ain’t?”   
  
He only offered him a smile, before laughing loudly, making the room echo again.   
  
“And just what’s so funny?”   
  
“ _You_. You’re asking about my mental state? Did you forget where ya standing?” Daniel placed his hand on Kyburz’s shoulder. “We’re standing in a _city_ at the _bottom_ of the _Atlantic Ocean_. You’d have to be crazy to even be in Rapture in the first place, I just think a few of them are further along than most. Like that creepy Doctor down at Pauper’s Drop.”   
  
“Who? Tenenbaum?”   
  
“No, the other one.”   
  
“Suchong?”   
  
“No, not him. Name begins with a ‘C’, you probably haven’t heard of him, he’s not as well known as the others…” he tapped his chin. “Oh yeah, Cicil! Well, Doctor Cicil Conners. Now that guy… he’s a mental case. A lot of people come out of his clinic sicker then they went in, I swear it. Going on about weird visions and stuff… Cicil says it’s a bad reaction to his medicine but me? Well, I think too many people come out telling the same story for it to be a coincidence.”   
  
“Then why do people still go to him?”   
  
“You ain’t exactly swimming in choices in the Drop,” Daniel said sternly. “You think if I could afford to live somewhere else, hell be anywhere else I wouldn’t jump at it?”   
  
Kyburz frowned slightly. “Is that why you keep going after all those high brow women?”   
  
Daniel looked angry, it wasn’t an expression he often held on his face but now he looked positively livid. Kyburz even backed up slightly at the look, holding his hands up in defence.   
  
“It’s a reasonable question.”   
  
“I am not so shallow you-,” he paused and took a breath. “Honestly you think that I’d marry someone just so I could get out of the drop?! Break a girls heart like that?! What the hell do you take me for? No, I go for those high brow women because they… intrigue me.”   
  
“Intrigue you?”   
  
“Well don’t they you?” Daniel gestured around him. “Look at where we work and think about where they work. Aren’t you the least bit curious? I want to know what it’s like for them, want to hear their point of view of this place. People always look and see a pretty face but.. I want to know them, as a person,” he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Tell ya the truth… I ain’t been looking at any other women recently… there’s this.. singer at the El Darado Lounge… she’s amazing! So talented and beautiful, hell she even had a kind word to say to me every once in a while.”   
  
“Probably because she’s paid to do that?”   
  
“No..” Daniel said softly, a smile on his face Kyburz had never seen before. “No, I know what that feels like, I’ve had it done to me so often. No.. she feels genuine. Honestly, Kyburz you should come and see her, she’s got such a voice. I want to know her story, can’t of been easy for her to get where she is.”   
  
“No…” Kyburz said sarcasticly “Can’t of been easy for a pretty girl with a good voice to make it in Rapture.”   
  
Daniel didn’t look impressed. “I said she was beautiful, not pretty and no, I don’t think it would’ve been easy for her at all,” he bit his lip and shrugged slightly. “She’s a coloured ya know… African American but so beautiful and so talented. You know how hard it is to make it anywhere when Ya not American… especially in America, how they treat you… and Em, you think I don’t see it, but I have done and it sure as hell ain’t right but it happens. This singer though… I just wanna know her story, I wanna know her! I think I…”   
  
“If you say you think you’ve fallen in love I’m gonna toss you off this walkway.”   
  
“But I think I have.”   
  
“You haven’t even spoken to her,” Kyburz deadpanned.   
  
Daniel suddenly got a look of determination on his face. “Well, tonight, I will.”   
  
“Wait what?” He blinked at him. Surly he’d not heard Daniel correctly? “Daniel, what? You can’t just-.”   
  
“Why not? I can do it, I know I can!”   
  
Kyburz sighed in defeat. “Alright… fine… but if you do, might I make a suggestion?”   
  
“Sure?”   
  
“Don’t drink,” he pointed at him. “You’re obnoxious when you drink and for heavens sake… clean ya face of the grease. Please.”   
  
“You’re… starting to sound like Em.”   
  
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Kyburz rubbed his eyes. “Alright lover boy, get back to work and maybe we can leave early and you’ll actually be able to make yourself look presentable.”

* * *

  
The medical pavilion was buzzing with life. People darting this way and that, nurses and doctors going over clipboards. The waiting room was packed, but in a hospital when was it ever not? Mothers sat with their children, one kid looked like he had a broken arm, another looked like he’d gone through several rounds with the best boxing star they had in Rapture. Screaming kids, grumpy old man, mother trying to calm her crying baby which clearly had a fever while trying to also keep three other children under control, the noise was already giving Opal a headache.   
  
She wasn’t much of a fan of hospitals herself, they always smelt like disinfectant or copper. It was decidedly not her cup of tea at all, she much preferred the bars and other more night time hot spots.   
  
Rapture’s medical pavilion was mostly a cream colour with accents of red to try and brighten it up a little. All it reminded Opal of was bone and blood, it did nothing to calm her discomfort.   
  
Idly she looked over the posters and advertisements for the various practices in this place, Steinman’s of course was the most well known and conicendetsly the most well advertised. About five of the ten posters were advertising ‘Steinman’s aesthetic ideals’, the plastic surgeon was making quite a name for himself down in Rapture, but he’d been pretty famous topside too.   
  
Her sister had practically preached to her how good of a surgeon, Steinman was, both topside and now down here in Rapture. Even more so in Rapture, especially as she was working under him now. All her dreams had seemed to of come true and she was more than ready for the trials that Rapture’s elite offered when it came to fixing their faces.   
  
Opal had never liked the idea of plastic surgery. Sure if you needed it, like a lot of poor folks did after the war, then fair. Go crazy and get your face reconstructed, but for others… they didn’t need it. She’d seen so many cases leaving or even worse, coming back to have more work done when their faces looked more like a plastic doll’s and not a person.   
  
Opal winced as the baby’s wailing increased in volume, reaching pitches that she was certain only dogs could hear. Honestly, how could someone so tiny make so much noise?   
  
She looked around the medical pavilion again, trying to take her mind off the wailing and sick babe in the mother’s arms or the grumbling and glaring old man. It seemed like every hospital waiting room had one of those.   
  
As her eyes trailed over the walls and doors, she frowned slightly at one of the signs. Flickering and glowing, complete with a burning flame, was the sign _‘Eternal Flame Crematorium’_ shining brightly against the pale cream walls. Well, nothing like a slap in the face when it came to the inevitable and in a hospital of all places.   
  
Yes, Opal stood by her previous statement. She _hated_ the medical pavilion.   
  
“Ah, Miss Delores, waiting for your sister I see?”   
  
If Opal hated the medical pavilion, she hated Steinman more and here was the man in question. The boss of her sister.   
  
She turned to him, glaring cooly at the Doctor and well renowned surgeon and he only looked on at her… well she wasn’t really sure how to describe that look.   
  
Now Opal wasn’t a stupid woman, far from it. She saw what the boys saw when she looked in the mirror, she knew she was a good looking woman and often used her charms to her advantage, so she was very much used to the way men looked at her. You didn’t perform at a bar without getting a few lust filled gazes fired your way, while you crooned sweet nothings into a microphone about sex and love. She knew what a lustful gaze looked like or indeed, the look of a man who found her attractive, but the way Steinman looked at her… was none of those things. None at all.   
  
He looked at her the same way he looked at her sister, like she was a bug in a jar. An insect. One he couldn’t wait to pin to a board and dissect with the utmost care and then leave on display for the world to see.   
  
Her sister never saw it, she was too busy gazing up at Steinman in adoration and yes Opal would admit the man was very good at his job, she did not like his look.   
  
“Doctor Steinman,” she greeted cooly. “Thought you’d be in practice? Not so many customers today?”   
  
“Only a few,” he replied, smoothing his hair back. “We’re getting a jingle added to Rapture Radio soon, should have more people flocking. More wrongs to right.”   
  
“You mean faces?” She rose an eyebrow.   
  
Steinman blinked as if remembering himself. “Yes, quite. Faces… your own face is.. exquisite, but have you ever thought about altering it just a little?”   
  
“Can’t say I have. Like you said… it’s exquisite,” she winked at him. “Compliment like that from a guy who knows faces, well, a girl can’t be going too wrong huh?”   
  
“Well, it certainly is a vast improvement to some of the circus freaks we have come in this place,” he glanced over at the waiting room, nose scrunching up and a sneer of disgust graced his face, as he looked over the visitors. “I mean just look at these sorry sights,” he gestured to them. “Honestly, some I don’t even think a scalpel could help them, but you have to take what you get, don’t you?”   
  
She smiled tightly. “Yes. I suppose that’s true.”   
  
“Opal!”   
  
She span to see her sister running over to her, pulling her coat on and holding tightly to her handbag. Rosa still had her nurses uniform on underneath since she would be coming back to work afterwards. The two sisters were meeting up for lunch, like they always did, which was probably how Steinman knew that Opal would be here at this time.   
  
“I’m so sorry I’m late, go caught up cleaning,” she smiled at Steinman brightly. “Everything’s ready for you, Doctor Steinman.”   
  
“Thank you, my dear,” he bowed his head. “I wish you both a nice lunch.”   
  
“Yes, yes you too,” Opal butted in quickly taking her sisters arm and pulling her in close. “Now get me out of here, you crazy thing, making me wait for you in the damn hospital you know I hate these places.”   
  
Rosa giggled. “You get used to the smell, ya know?”   
  
“Little sister, the day I get used to the smell, is the day I’ve had to wait for you too long,” Opal teased right back. “Besides, what on earth were you doing?”   
  
“Sterilising instruments, for the next surgery. We have.. now get this.. Ada, coming to us. Ada! Can you believe it? I mean last week, Ava Tate and now Ada!”   
  
“Well you know something, all that does is feed my ego, I hope you realise this,” she pointed behind her. “Because I am never going under the knife, ever.”   
  
“Steinman is brilliant, Opal, they’d hardly know.”   
  
“ _I’d_ know.”   
  
“Fair enough, but you know when you start going old and wrinkly-.”   
  
“Oh my child, look who’s talking,” she poked her slightly. “What’s to say all that nursing don’t make you wrinkly and grey before me from stress?”   
  
Rosa grinned. “Then they wouldn’t be grey hairs, they’d be stress highlights. Besides, you’re older than me, you’d go grey first.”   
  
“I don’t know… I think I could carry off the grey look, what you think?”   
  
“I think it’s lunch time and I’m hungry,” Rosa pulled at her hand. “Come on, let’s go! Kashmir won’t wait forever and neither will Em.”   
  
“Ah no, it’s just us two. Em can’t make it, still working on that sub for Fontaine.”   
  
Rosa tapped her chin. “I heard he’s planning on opening a Department store… not a bad idea for a tycoon like him, you think he’d ask Em to help out with it?”  
  
“More importantly,” Opal grinned at her. “Do you think she’d be able to get us employee discount?”   
  
Rosa rolled her eyes. “You’re a menace,” she teased back. “Honestly, Opal, between you and Kelly, I’m not sure how the rest of us are going to cope.”   
  
“Kelly is a league all of her own,” Opal pointed out. “I swear that woman makes my head spin, the amount of stories she’s told us… well… dear me, little sister, they’d make you blush.”   
  
“Please,” Rosa laughed. “I don’t want to hear it… can I just enjoy my lunch?”   
  
“Of course, you will be coming tonight though right?”   
  
“I’ll try, but no promises… it’s gonna pick up this afternoon. In the surgery and Doctor Steinman’s asked me to stay behind to help him.”   
  
Opal gave her sister a tight lipped smile. “Of course, well, if you can get there it’ll be lovely to see you.”   
  
“I’ll try.”   
  
Yes, Opal stood by her previous statement. She _hated_ , Steinman.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_The big leagues:_   
  
_Well you wouldn’t believe who I got a job from today. Frank Fontaine of all people. I’ve been watching the gossip about him, probably the only person to give Ryan some competition in this place. I had to fix one of his fishing subs, apparently one of his boys didn’t know how to pilot it and crashed the damn thing. While they were trying to park it. Jesus._   
  
_Only thing I hate about this job is working close quarters with Peach Wilkins… hate that idiot, such a pathetic little rat of a man, always going on and on about how much he hates me. Ain’t never been able to get over that one pool game, has old Peachy. Swear that man hold’s grudges for a life time, but he work’s for Fontaine so I have to dance around him._   
  
_He’s hiding something, Fontaine is, the interior of the sub was smaller than the schematics say it should be. Secret compartment, I’d wager and I’ve been hearing a lot of whispers about… smuggled in goods… Hm. I don’t care, it doesn’t concern me and besides, this is Rapture, things work a little differently._


	5. Rags to Riches

_Sullivan,_   
  
_Keeping watch:_   
  
_Mister Ryan’s told me to keep an eye on Emilie Lokken, one of the engineers who works in Hephestus. She’s been doin’ some extra jobs for Fontaine recently, for some extra cash I’d wager, but Ryan’s got it in his head that she’s got somethin’ to do with this whole smugglin’ operation. Heh, but far as I can tell, Lokken would rather choke on air than be workin’ for Fontaine and Fontaine ain’t stupid enough to go trustin’ her neither._

* * *

  
“All done?”   
  
“Done and dusted,” Emilie replied, picking up her tools and packing them away. “Sub’s now fixed, Mister Fontaine… you won’t have need of me anymore,” her eyes flickered over to Reggie who was standing just behind Fontaine like always. “I trust I’ll be leaving without any… issues?”   
  
Fontaine didn’t answer her immediately, he seemed to be studying her, trying to figure something out. Em wasn’t entirely sure what, of course, but whatever it was, he seemed to have come to a conclusion.   
  
Wordlessly, he walked over to examine the work on the sub, humming in appreciation at the flawless finish. Not a scratch on it and no telling it had been damaged in the first place. Very good work, best he’d seen in fact. Seemed Ms Lokken was a very valuable asset to keep around, just needed to figure out what to keep her round for.   
  
Then it hit him. The Department Store. It needed wiring doing in it, the locks and air tight seals, a lot of work which he hadn’t gotten round to hiring anyone to sort out yet. Mostly because, he wasn’t quite sure who he wanted to head the team who’d be working there, but now it seemed he’d found it.   
  
“Mister Fontaine?”   
  
Frank turned to her with a smile on his face and she looked a little startled at how genuine it was. For once it seemed to reach his eyes.   
  
“You do good work, Ms Lokken,” he replied smoothly. “Limey’s already got ya’ final pay packet… but, if I could spare a moment of your time?”   
  
She shrugged. “Got no where else to be.”   
  
“Excellent… though,” he looked around at the rest of the workers, who seemed to be a lot slower today and jittery.   
  
He knew why of course. In the past week… Fontaine had let Charlie go… straight into an air lock and out into Rapture’s surrounding scenery. Of course, no one knew it was on purpose, it just went down as another unfortunate accident. To the right people though, well they knew exactly what had happened, since Charlie had got talking about turning Fontaine into Ryan.. like Sammy had and well… Fontaine couldn’t have that now, could he?   
  
Turning back to the Norwegian engineer in front of him, he offered her his best, most convincing smile. “Maybe not here. What you say we… take this back to my Penthouse?”   
  
She rose an eyebrow at that. “Only to discuss business, Mister Fontaine. That I believe we can do here.”   
  
“True. Though, I don’t know about you, but this place… it’s colder then winter’s in New York and the Penthouse is a much better setting. We’ll discuss it in my office. I have some blue prints you can go over…”   
  
Em bit her lip considering it, glancing to see Peach smirking slightly at her, mumbling something to one of the other workers who managed to stifle their laughter.   
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Wanna share that with the rest of the class, here Peachy?”   
  
Peach stumbled and darted off like hell on wheels, making Em roll her eyes and mutter something, looking back at Fontaine. He was watching her expectantly. Like he’d already worked out her answer.   
  
“What kind of blue prints we talking about?”   
  
“Like I said. We’ll discuss that in my office.”   
  
“Who said I’m going to your penthouse?”   
  
He grinned at her, that shark like grin which made her nervous. There always seemed to be something more behind that grin. More than what he was willing to divulge. Almost like an inside joke he wasn’t willing to spill.   
  
“Oh, you’ll be coming. I know you will, ‘cause you wanna make more money. More than what you’re making just working for Ryan,” he placed a hand to his chest. “So, if you work for me… in ya spare time… well… think of the scratch you’ll make.”   
  
She stared at him. Was he… serious? He wanted her to do another job? Couldn’t be more subs or else he’d be discussing it here, so what on earth was he going on about. Still, it couldn’t hurt to find out, could it? He was right after all, it would be some extra change in her pocket, certainly mean she could move out of her dump in the drop a lot sooner.   
  
“Alright, Mister Fontaine…” she said carefully. “Colour me intrigued. I’ll meet you tonight, at your penthouse.”   
  
“Excellent. Does seven work for you, doll?”   
  
“Only if you don’t call me, ‘doll’,” she replied sharply.   
  
“It’s a term of endearment,” Fontaine drawled, sending a wink her way.   
  
Em resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Not to me. I’ll just grab my pay check from Limey and… see you at seven…”   
  
She’d picked up her tools, collected her pay check and left as soon as possible. In all honesty she was surprised that he was even asking her for more work.   
  
Tonight, after the meeting with Fontaine, she was going down to the tavern to meet with Kyburz and Daniel, another round of drinks and some gossip. She hadn’t seen the two in a while, not with her working on Fontaine’s sub and those two busy with a.. secret project? She wasn’t sure what it was, but they’d been pretty tight lipped regarding it. Maybe tonight they’d spill and tell her, but in all honesty she couldn’t be certain.   
  
Stepping out of the bathysphere, she straightened out her hat, which sat to the side of her head, more like a trilby design but for ladies, letting her hair curl at the front. The red cascaded down in waves in front of her pale face and forest green eyes.   
  
When she went out with the boys, she dressed in slacks and a well cut waistcoat and jacket, complete with her hat and smart polished shoes. She didn’t like dressing in her best dress when she was just with those two, she liked blending in with the crowd of men, even though Kelly insisted she didn’t. The waistcoat was cut to emphasis her waist after all and even the tie she wore, tucked into it, did little to give an illusion to a male figure. Still, it seemed to keep any of the comments and more handsy type at bay and she was all for that.   
  
Walking up to the penthouse’s elevator, she noticed some people giving her funny looks. Probably weren’t used to her type being here, in the Mercury Suites.   
  
The Suites up in Olympus Heights, were some of the best around and Mercury Suites were the finest in Rapture’s housing. Perfectly painted and cleaned white walls and staircase, with the elevator having an Art Deco gold and black design. Along the edges of the suites corridors were beautiful roses, they lined the walls and were in full bloom, giving a lovely earthy smell to the place. In front of the staircase and elevator, a few flower beds and trees decorated the area, all neatly trimmed and well kept. Nothing at all like Pauper’s Drop.   
  
Only the very best of Rapture’s elite lived here. The famous faces who had more than a nickel to their name, most of them were artist types, but a few were doctors and then of cause there was Fontaine, a business tycoon and the only real rival to Ryan.   
  
Some of the faces she recognised. Cohen, Tenenbaum, Suchong and even that actress LaLorna were all here. Culpepper too had seemed to recently joined the ranks of the residents who made up the luxury suites of Rapture. Well, Em recognised them all, the names at least for the two Doctors, she honestly wouldn’t be able to spot Suchong or Tenenbaum in a crowd, but the artist types she knew, she’d seen them round Fort Frolic enough times after all.   
  
Cohen, was staring out of his home, smoking and observing her, giving a little smug smile and a wave.   
  
Em hesitated before tipping her hat to the man and then typing in the code for the elevator. Fontaine’s woman, Limey, had given it to her with her pay check and she took it upon herself to memorise it.   
  
The elevator ride up, she was anxious, which was an unusual feeling for her. She wasn’t too certain why she felt like this. Maybe because she’d be in Fontaine’s private residence? A place that… technically, she’d be trapped in, but this was just a business meeting so no need to go thinking like that.   
  
Stepping out of the elevator, she crossed the courtyard and gravel garden, which she honestly wasn’t expecting to see outside a place owned by Fontaine, but then again she couldn’t exactly see the man trimming rose bushes either.   
  
Cautiously she walked up to the door and knocked gently, before knocking a little firmer then before.   
  
There was a noise behind the door and then Fontaine stood in front of her, glass of maybe brandy or whisky in his hand and he took a slow sip of it, eyes trailing up her figure.   
  
“And just where the hell have you been hiding that?”   
  
Em blinked. “Pardon?”   
  
“You’re joking right?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Doll, yeah I know, you hate that name, but seriously?” He looked her over again. “The hell you been hiding that figure?”   
  
“Flattery will get you nothing, Mister Fontaine,” she replied, now understanding what he was talking about. “I don’t dress in working scrubs all the time. I’m going out with friends after this, so if you don’t mind I’d like to speed this along.”   
  
“Funny, I thought all yous wore was them scrubs. I ain’t seen you in nothing else,” he stepped aside, extending an arm to welcome her in. “Though I ain’t complaining,” he carried on, while she stepped inside. He even took a gamble and a chance while she wasn’t facing him to check her out from behind and well those trousers certainly fit her well. “You’re a nice change in scenery.”   
  
“I am or the back of me is?” She turned with a raise eyebrow and he held his hands up grinning.   
  
“Can’t blame a guy for admirin’ a fine looking woman, Ms Em. That you certainly are. Must make the girls mad jealous if you look like that in slacks… can only imagine what yous look like all dolled up.”   
  
“You’re laying the compliments on a bit thick,” she placed her hands on her hips, cocking her hip to the side. “As I said; flattery will get you nothing. I’m here to talk business, Mister Fontaine and as I previously mentioned I only have a limited amount of time.”   
  
Fontaine smiled at her and winked. “If you’d follow me,” he gestured to the stairs and she hesitated a moment before following him.   
  
While he wasn’t facing her, she took a moment to observe him and was surprised by what she found. For one, he had a strong set of shoulders and a strong back. He looked firm underneath the suit, which was surprising as most of the big leagues were either stick thin or… well they didn’t call them ‘fat cats’ for nothing. Fontaine was nothing like this, if anything… he almost had a working man’s figure. Strong back and shoulders, toned and firm. The only thing that broke the illusion was his hands, they were too smooth for a working man’s hands or her own hands for that matter.   
  
Fontaine, was a mystery, Em decided. He carried himself like a business owner but had the roughness of a working man and the lower class, so in all honestly she didn’t know what to make of him. She couldn’t put him in a definite box in her head as to where he belonged.   
  
Kelly was right about one thing, though Em herself was loath to admit it, Frank Fontaine was a good looking man. Certainly handsome and he carried himself well, which also helped. She could see how he did well with the ladies, but she was not about to become another notch in his belt. She had a feeling, a quick role in the hay was another form of manipulation or for some girls, another form of payment.   
  
She’d rather have the money.   
  
Walking through Fontaine’s apartment she was able to get a glance of what the high life was like in Rapture and damn if it wasn’t good. An entertainment room with a pool table and even a minibar, which honestly, she would love to have, but her wages wouldn’t allow for such luxuries.   
  
They went past the minibar, though Fontaine did stop to offer her a drink, which she declined and then they were walking across a balcony to another room. The most impressive piece of decoration in this place wasn’t the paintings of New York or the brass statues of dancing women, it was the great big polar bear at the head of the stairs. From her vantage point she could look at it better and stare in wonder. How he got something like that down in Rapture she didn’t know, but it was impressive none the less.   
  
“Ms Em,” he gestured to a small room and she followed quickly, surprised to find an office with a library of books behind the desk and chair, a small filing cabinet sat against the far wall, but her eyes were glued to the bookshelf. She wondered if he’d even read any of the books or if it was just to give the impression that he had.   
  
“You a fan of books?” He commented, walking past her and placing his drink on the table, going for the filing cabinet.   
  
“I find books a valuable source of entertainment,” she said softly, a smirk twitching at her lips. “That and it’s also nice to keep up with the times and the fancier lingo. The look on the elite’s faces when a working girl uses a word that the upper-class would never think she knew existed. Always did like tripping those fat cats up.”   
  
“Ain’t nothin’ more amusing than watchin’ a fat cat trip and fall in the mud,” Fontaine agreed, a grin on his face. “Plenty of that here in Rapture. Front row entertainment almost all the time, right Ms Em?”   
  
She shrugged. “If you say so, Mister Fontaine,” Em glanced over the books again while she shrugged her jacket off. “Just what exactly did you bring me all the way here for? You were… rather insistent. I hope you don’t think that I’m going to be putting out for you.”   
  
“A dame like you?” He shook his head, turning around with a file. “Heh, not sure I’d want to.”   
  
“For someone who claims you don’t want to, you sure as hell do look an awful lot.”   
  
“As I said, can’t blame a guy for looking,” he handed her the file and she took it, almost cautiously. “That’s what I want to propose to you. If you’re interested, which I think you are, you wouldn’t be here after all if you weren’t.”   
  
“Really? What gave you that impression?” She asked, flipping the file open and starting to read.   
  
Frank was leaning on his desk, feet crossed at his ankles and drink back in his hand. He took another sip, looking vaguely amused. He was starting to see why Sinclair liked this one. She was sure entertaining. Sharp and sarcastic, but with a little bit of fire underneath it all. Scratch that, a lot of fire underneath it all. Sinclair had complained numerous times about her hot temper and short fuse.   
  
Fontaine’s only reply had been, ‘ _well, what you’s expectin’? She’s a red head_ ,’ and he stood by that statement.   
  
“I get the feeling you ain’t the type who likes having their time wasted,” he replied carefully. “So I made sure I ain’t wasting it. It’s a big project, as you can see,” she hummed in response flicking through it, while he looked down at the now empty glass in his hand. “I’ve already got a few guys to work on it.”   
  
“Then I don’t see why you need me.”   
  
“Well you see, like I said, I got some guys to work on it, but no one to head the team,” he looked up at her now and she was staring at him with wide eyes. “I gotta say kid, ya impressed me back there with the sub and well… I need a good worker to lead this operation. Someone I know is gonna do good work and not mess it up. That’s you.”   
  
“Me?” She asked incredulously, pointing to herself. “You want me to be in charge of a crew? To head an operation?”   
  
“I didn’t stutter did I? You see me talking to anyone else? You’re good at what you do,” he placed the glass down. “So why are you so surprised? We have a deal? Limey’s even drawn up a contract for you-.”   
  
“I can’t!” She backed up a little. “They’d.. none of them would ever listen to me. I’m a woman in a man’s job,” she spat the last part out. “They’d never listen to a word I’d say, much less take orders from me.”   
  
Frank regarded her a moment, before he smiled at her in his best calming and reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about that. You have any problems, come talk to me or Reggie. We’d sort it for you, make it clear that they’re to listen to you,” he ran a hand over his bald head, a laugh escaped him as he turned away from her shaking his head. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect that from you. Didn’t think a group of men under your command would intimidate you.”   
  
“You misunderstand me, Fontaine, they don’t intimidate me,” she snapped the file closed looking annoyed. “As you said, I don’t like having my time wasted and being in control of a group of men who wouldn’t listen to me, is wasting my time.”   
  
“And as _I_ said, you have a problem, you talk to me or Reggie.”   
  
“And you’d what?” She scoffed. “Tell them they had to listen to me?”   
  
“Oh,” Fontaine smiled at her, it was cold and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’d make sure of it. I only settle for the best and that’s you, doll, plus it’s a little extra coin in your pocket. Hardly something to complain about. Wouldn’t it be nice to be giving the orders instead of taking them?”   
  
Emilie bit her lip, looking back at the file in her hand and not looking at the smirking man in front of her. He wasn’t wrong, it would be good money or at least it better be good money and yeah, sure it would be nice to be listened to for a change. Not to be shoved aside or taken for granted. To actually be listened to and respected… yet it still felt like if she signed that contract she’d be selling away her soul.   
  
Hadn’t she already done that with Ryan, though? So what was Fontaine? Selling what little freedom she had left? Only for the duration of the contract and she’d come out considerably richer than before and maybe with a little more respect around the workplace.   
  
“So, do you have a pen?” She asked and he smiled at her.   
  
“Sure, doll, let me just get the contract out and I’ll show you where to sign,” he paused a second. “But best keep this on the down low… Ryan-.”   
  
“Watches everything, yeah I know,” she nodded. “I’ve spotted his man, Sullivan, following me. Must’ve caught wind of me fixing your sub. The old man is a little paranoid…”   
  
“Ya know something, kid? I think you and I are gonna get along just fine…”   
  
The contract was signed, the deal was done, Em felt like she’d truly signed her soul away to the devil, but there was no backing out now.   
  
Fixing her coat on and straightening her tie as she left the elevator, she was running a little late, but she was certain she’d still make it in time to talk with Kyburz and Daniel.   
  
“ _Must I forever be a beggar? Whose golden dreams will not come true or will I go from rags to riches? My fate is up to you._ ”   
  
Em froze a second, turning to the voice and finding Sander Cohen leaning against the door frame of his apartment, smoking, with his eyes trained on her.   
  
Cohen smiled at her, he looked more like an 20s movie star, certainly was going for a debonair look, his hair smoothed back and a well trimmed mustache, hair black and oily looking like a raven’s feather.   
  
He gave her a little wave, much like he had done when she’d first arrived, before repeating once again, the lyrics from a song she hadn’t heard since topside.   
  
“ _Must I forever be a beggar_?” He glanced at her, continuing. “ _Whose golden dreams will not come true or will I go from rags to riches?_ ” He smiled, showing off his teeth and pointing with one hand up, straight to Fontaine’s apartment. “ _My fate is up to you._ ”   
  
He must of found it quite amusing because he broke off into a fit of laughter, dragging himself back into his apartment and letting the door slide in place.   
  
Emilie stood frozen, staring at the door, before letting a shudder go through her. Shaking her head she straightened off her tie again, more as a nervous tick than any real need to, before heading towards the bathysphere ports.   
  
There was a reason she wasn’t much fan of these artist types, but Cohen seemed to take the cake. He… there was just something off about the man, the few times he’d seen him round Fort Frolic was enough to make her decide that she was staying clear of all artist types in Rapture.   
  
She’d arrived at Bill’s Tavern, spotting Kyburz already at their usual table, but no Daniel in sight.   
  
The Fighting McDonagh was a stylised English pub setting, with barrels used as table stands and little lights on strings flickered on and off under colour lanterns. It looked a lot like a sailor’s pub topside in England, she’d been in one or two when she’d been working in London. They were fun and sold good alcohol, not to mention the nights when the sailors would come in singing were her favourite nights. She’d dance the night away, sing a song or two with the boys and be a little tipsy by the end, but at that point in time she’d never drank as much as she did now. She had no reason to.   
  
Here, it wasn’t always so rowdy, but sometimes it would be songs and loud music well into the night and a lot of drunken fishermen swimming their arms and singing shanties.   
  
Tonight, it was a quiet night and she was grateful for it. After having to deal with Fontaine for as long as she had, as well as his boys down at the fisheries, she was grateful for the peace.   
  
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, quickly taking her seat and waving to Bill behind the bar. “Hey Bill, can I have my usual?”   
  
“Coming’ right up, Ms Em!”   
  
Emilie liked Bill. He always had a kind word to say to her, polite to the very core of his being. Hell she didn’t think there was a bad bone in Bill’s body. He was an English chap, neatly trimmed bearded and a balding head, but kind eyes and always seemed to be smiling just about.   
  
Bill was one of Ryan’s top men, he worked very close with him, as she recalled when working in one of Ryan’s buildings topside, Bill had been Ryan’s general contractor. He’d seen her work at one suite and instantly had her hired to work on another, insisting that Ryan take a look for himself and see how good she was.   
  
After that, she’d been hired all the time, was just about to get a full time job working for the founder of Rapture when he invited her down here and with nothing left to loose, with nothing on the surface to keep her, she’d gone. Gladly and happily, ready to start a new life. A fresh start and instead ended up doing the same damn thing she had done topside.   
  
Kyburz smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it,” he yawned and rubbed his face looking more tired and haggard than she’d ever seen him. “It’s been a long day, Em. You finally finish that job for Fontaine?”   
  
“Hmm..” She nodded her head, looking out the window. “But I got a new one from him.”   
  
Kyburz’s smile fell and he looked concerned. “You sure that’s a good idea?”   
  
“Honestly? I’m not sure, but extra money is extra money.”   
  
“Don’t think Ryan will like that.”   
  
Emilie shrugged. “Free enterprise isn’t it?”   
  
“That’s the advertisement… does it feel like that to you?”   
  
They went quite as Bill came over and placed her drink down in front of her, a whisky on the rocks and she muttered a quiet thank you.   
  
Bill wandered back to the bar and two began talking again. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Bill, it was more about being cautious, since you didn’t want certain things going back to your boss. Especially in a place like Rapture.   
  
“I don’t know, Kyburz,” she replied with a little shrug, learning over her drink. “But I’m not breaking any contract with Ryan, not doing anything against the laws of Rapture. The few that exist anyway, he’s got nothing to hold over me.”   
  
“I’m more worried about the rumours going round,” Kyburz explained. “They’re saying Fontaine’s smuggling in goods. You see anything like that?”   
  
Em shook her head. “No. Nothing like that, but I was working outside the fisheries, never really got a good look inside,” the cigarettes in her pocket suddenly felt hot. Like they’d burn a whole through her pocket. “And in all truth, it’s none of my business what that man does. If he’s bringing stuff in…” she shrugged to say ‘so be it’ taking a very large gulp of her drink.   
  
“Yeah.. well, like I said, they’re just rumours,” he mumbled. “Like the ones about him building a department store?”   
  
“Oh that I know he is doing. It’s the next job I’m working on, well, leading it actually,” she smiled at that. “Finally head of an operation, better watch ya’ step Aussie, I’m closing in on your crown.”   
  
Kyburz laughed and took a sip of his drink. “Yeah, Norsky, I’d like to see you try,” he grinned at her, before it slipped off his face again and he looked troubled.   
  
“Hey,” she said gently and he looked up at her. “I’m going to be fine, Kyburz. I know how to look after myself, though it’s awful sweet of you to worry.”   
  
He smiled a little at that and shrugged. “Well, someone’s gotta watch your back, Ms Em.”   
  
“And I’m glad it’s you,” Em glanced around the mostly empty tavern, turning back to Kyburz in confusion. “Where’s our dear Daniel? He passed out under a table somewhere or did you finally loose ya patience with him on that little side project of yours and done him in?”   
  
“Heh, believe me, it came close,” Kyburz responded, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “But no, he’s at the El Darado Lounge. There’s a singer there he likes, think he’s finally gonna talk to her tonight. I think he’s damn crazy but what do I know? Not like I got a girl is it?”   
  
“Hmm.. I’d not be much good either,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Not got a man for myself, but then again I haven’t been looking.”   
  
Kyburz was staring at her, glancing to the side nervously before he looked down at his drink, suddenly finding it very interesting.   
  
“Umm.. you.. do you think you’ll go looking for a man?”   
  
“Not sure…” she shrugged. “Some of the men down here.. I might make Kelly’s horrified nightmare a reality and make a vow of chastity,” Em laughed slightly, smiling at him. “What about you? Found a girl ya like?”   
  
“Oh yeah…” he laughed. “She’s a real stunner… but, well, I’m just not for her. She’s out of my league completely… don’t think she’d want a tired idiot who can’t hold his drink and has two left feet.”  
  
“Don’t sell your self short, Kyburz,” she patted his arm. “Any girl would be lucky to have you. If she hasn’t seen that well, she’s an idiot and right fool.”   
  
“No, no she’s no idiot. Smartest person I know.”   
  
“Can’t be that smart if she can’t see what’s right in front of her.”   
  
He smiled tightly at that, gave a breathy laugh, almost sounded like it was choked out. Kyburz downed his drink, waving it to indicate to Bill he wanted another and turned back to the smartest person he knew. Em was smiling at him softly, the rare little smiles that only certain people got and Kyburz felt honoured to be one of the few who got to see it.   
  
“She’s too smart not to see it in the end,” he said softly. “I know she’ll notice, she’ll figure it out one day and when that day comes, well I’ll be more then ready. For now, I’m content with how things are. Rather have her in my life than make things awkward and not have her at all.”   
  
“That’s sweet. I’d of never have pegged you for a romantic.”   
  
Kyburz hummed in agreement looking down at his empty drink. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Daniel?”   
  
Emilie laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as Bill placed another Drink down for Kyburz, taking the empty glass away and wondering back behind the bar. He was cleaning the glasses and had a towel over his shoulder for wiping down the bar.   
  
“Speaking of, our dearly departed comrade,” she lifted her drink to her lips, studying him. “What exactly are you two working on? You’ve been awfully quiet about it.”   
  
Kyburz froze a second, face going pale before going a little green. He looked ill and shook up all at once, like just thinking about his extra work was making him apprehensive. That wasn’t the typical expression someone wore when they were getting a little bit of extra work. Usual expressions were exhaustion or annoyance but never… fear.   
  
_Fear_ , Em realised with a shock, _that’s fear clear as day on his face, but it’s just a job right? Why’s he so scared of it?_   
  
He still hadn’t said anything, lifting his drink to his lips and Em noted his hand was shaking, making the alcohol slosh around the glass and tremble.   
  
Laughing nervously she placed her own drink back on the table. “C’mon Kyburz, don’t leave me hanging. What are you two working on? Can’t be that bad… right?”   
  
He glanced at her, then his eyes shifted around the room, seeming to be making sure no one else was listening in and leaned across the table to her, voice a low whisper.   
  
“You ever look to south of Rapture? There’s that empty building and then the one next to it?”   
  
“There’s a building there?”   
  
“That’s my point. No one knows it’s there, not unless you knew to look for it. It’s tucked away, hidden and… and suspended over a sea trench.”   
  
“A sea trench?” She blinked at him looking confused. “Why in- who in their right mind would build something there?”   
  
“I dunno.. I don’t know what Sinclair is hoping to-.”   
  
“Sinclair? Augustus Sinclair?”   
  
Kyburz nodded, leaning a little closer to whisper. “Bastard got me and Daniel roped in to doing contracted work on that place when we were drunk. Yeah I know, stupid right? Well anyway, we’re working on it, everything’s going fine and then suddenly Daniel says the place reminds him awful lot of a prison. He said he worked on a few topside and the way this place Sinclair is building looks an awful lot like one. There’s a lot of security he wants setting up too and only one way in and out of that place.”   
  
Em frowned at him, while he gulped his second drink down, coughing a little as the alcohol burned his throat.   
  
“Why would Sinclair be building a prison? What’s he going to get out of it?” She whispered back.   
  
He shrugged, toying with the empty glass. “I dunno and part of me doesn’t want to know… I get to thinking what they did to some of those poor folk in the war, ya know in Germany? People just disappearing and Ryan’s awful strict when it comes to following his rules and vision. What if… one of us steps out of line? His version of what stepping out of line is?”   
  
She bit her lip and looked down at her own glass now, still containing a little bit of alcohol in it, her face was reflected back in the amber liquid.   
  
“We’d know.. we’d know if someone disappeared.”   
  
“Yeah, that’s what scares me. Because if people start disappearing…” he trailed off before nodding to the window and the open ocean. “Just where the hell are we going to go? Least some of those poor sods had the rest of the world they could escape to, the lucky ones at least, but here?” Kyburz tapped his empty glass on the table in thought. “We got no where.”   
  
“This isn’t Nazi Germany, Kyburz.”   
  
“Isn’t it?” He looked up at her then. “They didn’t have any restrictions when it came to science and neither do the people down here. Daniel was telling me about some quack Doctor, down at the Drop?”   
  
Recognition flickered across Em’s face and she nodded her head. “Yeah, Cicil. Real freak that one. I don’t go there, save my money and got to other places, heard too many stories of people having ‘bad reactions’ to his treatments,” her face scrunched up. “Hell, two or three of the poor sods died.”   
  
“What?!”   
  
“I’m not joking. Cicil just shrugged, said something about a bad reaction and that was that. Folks still go though, because there’s no where else they can go.”   
  
“Why not just save up like you do?”   
  
“Because some of them have kids to feed,” she downed her own drink. “We all got bills to pay and for some of the folk down there, well if real medicine won’t fix it, then a vice sure will. I’ve seen a few doing the nose candy and floor polish, no one cares of course. You’re allowed to use it down here, after all.”   
  
“Why hasn’t anyone reported this guy?”   
  
“It’s Pauper’s Drop,” she deadpanned. “No one cares about the people down there, we’re just the poor sods who built this place or keep it running. No charities, no healthcare, no soup kitchens. It’s survival of the fittest in that place, why’d you think I always carry a knife with me? Can’t be too careful, especially if you’re a girl living on your own.”   
  
“Why don’t you move in with me?” He blurted out before he could stop himself and Em’s eyes widened in surprise, leaning away from the table a little.   
  
“What?” She asked blinking at him.   
  
Kyburz looked like he was mentally kicking himself and shrugged a little, even if it was somewhat stiffly. “Move in with me…? I have a spare room I could do up for you. I mean, we work the same hours and… it’d be safer for you right? Better area and all that?”   
  
“Sounds awful lot like charity, Kyburz.”   
  
“Can’t you see it as a friend… helping out his other friend?”   
  
She sighed and fiddled with her empty glass. “You won’t have to worry. With this extra deal I got with Fontaine… I’ll be able to save up enough to move out on my own. I like my own space,” Em smiled at him softly. “But thank you for the offer.”   
  
They fell silent again and stared down at their empty glasses, both unsure for once, where to go from here. Thankfully though, to save them of embarrassment, Karlosky came in holding high a bottle of his finest home brewed Russian vodka.   
  
“Where’s the Norsky? Are we going to drink or what?”   
  
Em laughed and waved him over. “Come on Karlosky! Bill! Fresh glasses if you please!”   
  
“Ah, the woman knows!”   
  
Kyburz raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you and Karlosky so pally?”   
  
“Oh don’t you worry, you’re still my favourite,” she grinned. “But Karlosky makes damn good vodka, brews it himself.”   
  
“I should imagine that’s strong.”   
  
“As should be,” Karlosky said, pulling a chair up and placing the bottle on the table. “Norsky reckons she can drink me under the table. We play drinking game and when I win you pay for tab.”   
  
“And when _I_ win, _you_ pay for tab.”   
  
“I don’t care who wins, so long as you don’t make a bloody mess,” Bill said placing four glasses down and pulling his own chair up. “C’mon Kyburz, lighten up some, mate.”   
  
“I don’t know…” Kyburz mumbled softly. “Last time I got drunk it didn’t end too well.”   
  
“Bah! One drink will not kill you,” Karlosky said, waving his hand as he began pouring some of the liquid into the glasses. The vodka was so strung that the scent of alcohol filled the room quickly and overpowered any smell of the sea.   
  
“Two drinks might kill you,” Em winked as she picked up her glass and sniffed it. “Woo! Damn, did you make this stronger than the last batch? Christ, Karlosky, you really are trying to kill us.”   
  
The Russian grinned at that, pushing a glass towards Kyburz who hesitantly picked it up, as Bill picked his own up.   
  
Kyburz sniffed his cautiously and almost gagged with how strong it was, wincing a little as it stung his eyes. “Bloody hell… what’s in this stuff.”   
  
“Vodka.”   
  
“How’d you make it?”   
  
“With alcohol? Stupid questions. Just drink.”   
  
“Don’t worry, Kyburz,” Em reassured. “It’s about seventy percent right? One drink is guaranteed to make you tipsy, second drink is guaranteed to make you blind. Third drink almost certain liver failure right?”   
  
“The woman knows…” Karlosky hummed, before raising his hand up to toast. “Dlya vashego zdorov’ya!”   
  
“Skal!”   
  
“Cheers!”   
  
“Cheers, guv!”

* * *

  
“Ugh… my head… I never want to drink that stuff again,” Kyburz groaned as he rubbed at his forehead. Next to him, Em laughed while they walked through Hephestus in the early mornings. The gentle hum of the machines and a few sounds of workman were all that could be heard. Only a few people were here this early in the morning.   
  
The core, the heart of Rapture some called it, casted a warm orange light over them both as they walked through, but Kyburz seemed to shielding his eyes from the lights source, while Em basked in the warm glow. Glancing at him she laughed again, shaking her head in mock despair.   
  
“You really can’t hold ya drink, you know that?” She grinned at him. “What’s wrong with ya’ man?”   
  
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Drinking that stuff?”   
  
“Karlosky’s gonna give me some for my birthday, won’t tell me the damn recipe to make it though.”   
  
“Good. I dread to you think what you’d do if you knew it,” Kyburz complained, walking towards his office, with Em following behind him.   
  
Leaning against the door to Kyburz’s office was Pablo Navarro, casually tossing a wrench in his hand and catching it over and over again. He looked up at the two of them and grinned widely.   
  
Em didn’t know what to make of him, he wasn’t as bad as Pablov that was for damn sure, at least he wasn’t as bad as he was in regards to her. Pablo was an opportunistic man, she knew that much. If he could get ahead, in any sense, he would try. No matter the means and no matter the cost.   
  
Half the time he’d just try to steal some of her lunch or occasionally some of her money, but she’d caught him nearly every time so he stopped after a while. He was a crafty man and whilst she didn’t trust him and would not consider him a friend, she would admit he had a wicked sense of humour. Sure it was crude and a lot of the time it was directed at someone, but he was often frank. People didn’t always know how to respond to it. He didn’t beat about the bush, like most did, he said it as it was and often with a cynical view.   
  
“Morning boss, Ms Em,” he tipped an imaginary hat. “If you don’t mind me saying, Kyburz… you’re looking awful rough this morning.”   
  
“The lights are screaming,” Kyburz mumbled half heartedly, reaching the door and typing in the pass code. “How we looking in heatloss monitoring?”   
  
Pablo looked down at Em who was looking on at Kyburz, face a mixture of concern and amusement.   
  
“All working to standards,” Navarro replied, slipping his wrench through a belt loop to hold it in place. “Why are the lights screaming?”   
  
“Ask Em.”   
  
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle Karlosky’s vodka.”   
  
Pablo grinned. “Hey, so the Aussie can’t handle a good drink?” He laughed. “Should let the proper drinkers like Ms Em do ya drinking for you.”   
  
“She won,” Kyburz replied sourly, opening the door to his office and wandering down to his desk.   
  
Kyburz’s office was neat and organised, one of the view offices that had a key coded lock to it. Well, he was a bit of a paranoid man and always expected the worst of people. He’d been awful sullen when she’d first started working for him and yes while he was still like that, even now, she was able to get little glimpses of the sense of humour he had underneath. While at work, however, he would always go back to the sullen and exasperated worker, with Em he’d still be able to crack a joke.   
  
“So then boss,” Pablo piped up. “What’s the plan for today?”   
  
Kyburz rubbed at his eyes, looking at them both and their smirking faces. “Laugh it up all you want, but don’t come crawling to me when you go looking for sympathy.”   
  
“Not you I plan on crawly to,” Pablo replied, glancing at Em and shooting her wink.  
  
Em snorted and rolled her eyes. “Please. I wouldn’t touch you to punch you.”   
  
“Least the twist is honest.”   
  
“Stop, I’ve got a headache as it is,” Kyburz mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And don’t call Em a twist. I already got complaints, Pablo, from others about your name calling.”   
  
“They don’t like my name calling ‘cause they know it’s true,” Pablo shrugged.   
  
Kyburz waved him off. “Whatever. Anyway, just your regular duties for today. I- wait where’s Daniel?”   
  
“Oh he’s already here, been here for a long time,” Navarro supplied with a shrug.   
  
Kyburz and Em stared at him in shock.   
  
“I’m sorry, Daniel is here? _Daniel Warren_ is in _early_?”   
  
Pablo nodded. “Yep. Not drunk either, in fact he looked like he’d slept… seemed pretty happy to.. please bout somethin,” he paused before laughing. “Ah! Now I know the look he wore! That’s the look of someone who got lucky!”   
  
“I’m sorry, we’re still talking about _Daniel Warren_ here right?” Em said and as if on cue, Daniel came running in looking out of breath and that’s when they heard all the commotion upstairs and shouting.   
  
Daniel was leaning on the door frame, clumsily gesturing with his arms. Despite being out of breath, it was the best looking anyone had ever seen him. No dark circles, hair neatly combed, if a bit wind swept from running and his eyes were bright and clear, not a hint of alcohol in them. Even his skin looked healthier. Amazing what a good nights sleep could do.   
  
“Daniel? What the hell is going on up there?”   
  
“Ya gotta.. come quick…” he took a breath and started to jog backward, hooking his thumb behind him. “Pablov was working in heatloss and one of the pipes burst… the steam.. Jesus Christ, hell! Just come.. come quick!”   
  
He started running again, Pablo, Em and Kyburz quickly chasing behind him, darting through the crowd and panicking workers who were desperately trying to maintain some sort of order.   
  
They ran and pushed past the gathering crowd and Em placed a hand over her mouth, hands starting to shake as the smell of burning flesh hit her. Then she saw the body on the floor.   
  
It was a mess of hot steam and water everywhere, on the floor in the middle of it all, still alive, was Pablov. He was screaming as best as he could, the steam had burnt his face pretty much almost down to the bone in some places on his face, his hands were shakily reaching up and clutching at his face making it worse. Burns and boils littered his skin, bits of bone shined in the light where it had pocked through the melted and burnt skin. The smell was horrendous and Emilie back away from the scene, pushing past the gathering crowd as people tried their best to help the drying man, but there was no helping him. The chemicals they used in the water saw to that, some of it was currosive and his face proved that. Some parts were still melting and sizzling, the flesh just melting off the bone like a horrid mess of slime.   
  
Em had bolted as fast as she could, running until she reached the core and could no longer smell the scent of burning flesh, clutching at the railing like a life line. She took deep breaths of cleaner air, despite being able to smell sulphur and smog, it was better than the smell of flesh melting off bone.   
  
Her breath was coming out in short sharp bursts, her grip tightened until it was white knuckled against the railing and her eyes were squeezed shut. Trying desperately to banish the images in her mind and calm her breathing at the same time, but it was a futile effort. Em tried to take a step, but stumbled to the ground, still holding onto the railing, almost like she was unable to let go of it. Truth was, Em was scared to let go of it, not sure if letting go of the railing meant letting go of reality.   
  
Emilie felt a hand on her shoulder and she dared to open her eyes finding Daniel next to her, concern shining in his eyes.   
  
“I ain’t gonna ask if you’re okay, because I know that’s a stupid thing to ask,” he said softly. “But I’m just gonna keep my hand on your shoulder okay? Ground you a little… if it gets too much just say and we’ll.. I don’t know, we’ll leave, okay?”   
  
Unable to speak she could only nod her head, letting go of the railing with one hand and placing it over Daniel’s hand. Neither of them said anything, they just stayed where they were, Em had her eyes shut again and was trying desperately to take deeper breaths and calm herself down.   
  
That night, when she was trudging home, she barely registered the journey at all. She didn’t register Sinclair call after her or complained about the elevator being broken again. Instead she walked up to her apartment, eyes hollow and glassy, giving the impression she wasn’t quite there.   
  
Once safely inside her apartment, she dropped all her tools and her coat on the floor uncaringly, pulling out the bottles of booze from her kitchen and taking them into the bedroom. She unscrewed the tops, not bothering with a glass as she drank from the bottle, staring out at the surrounding sea. Tonight was going to be a worse day, she could already feel it. So in light of the oncoming nightmares and eventual insomnia, she pulled out the bottles from under her bed, ready for the night ahead.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Trapped:_   
  
_Got trapped in the damn vent system and- goddamn it… I thought I was past this. The nightmares are bad enough but- I was stuck there and then I was back… under the rubble, I couldn’t breath, felt the bricks digging into my back and arms, could smell the burning and… blood, oil…the molten metal and burning flesh. I’ll never forget the smell of burning flesh._   
  
_Sometimes I smell it around Hephestus and I’m back there again, I feel the pain, I can’t breath… like having brick dust in my lungs and… They had to drag me out of the vent, apparently I started screaming but I don’t remember that… I just remember barely being able to breath and my throat felt scratchy like the dust was back…_   
  
_Shellshock is the technical term… a lot of boys got it after the war._   
  
_They’ve left the war, but the war won’t leave them._   
  
_It’s not just me that’s got it, that’s the only comfort with the Sinclair deluxe, the walls are so thin you hear them in the night._   
  
_The nights I don’t sleep, can’t sleep.. you hear others screaming and their wives trying to comfort them, but they aren’t with their wives in that moment, no they’re back in the war zone._   
  
_As cruel as it is, I like to listen… because it reminds me that it’s not just me. That I’m not the only one who’s still haunted. Who’s still trapped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this was a long chapter... Long chapter! Mostly because I'm having some difficulty with chapter 6 at the moment in writing it and I want to push the story along to major events in Rapture's back story and obviously a lot of other major characters to get through. 
> 
> If anyone can help out, that'd be fantastic!
> 
> Just some ideas or pointers, even feedback on this chapter, it all helps and I like hearing from you guys! :D


	6. Diamonds are a girls best friend

_Sullivan,_

_Robbery:_   
  
_Goddamn.. another robbery that’s the second one this week. It should be impossible, I can’t work out how the thief got in and out without being seen._   
  
_Ryan’s breathin’ down my neck to get this issue under control, but whoever’s doin’ this… this ain’t their first rodeo. They know their way round a job, also means, they know their way round security._

* * *

  
Katherine Michaels took a hesitant sip of the tea in her cup. The last few times she’d tried the tea from Rapture she’d almost spat it out. Today she was trying the tea at the famed ‘Tea Gardens’ in Arcadia and you had to hope somewhere named after tea would… well have nice tea in it?   
  
Evidently it did not and she poured the rest of it into the grass, picking up her bag and leaving for the new empty building that Frank had recently purchased.   
  
She was shocked at how… accustomed she’d become, living in an aquarium except this time the fish were on the outside instead of inside the glass. She would admit that Rapture itself, was an impressive structure and truly it was a marvel. Ryan had outdone himself on that front, but it did not mean she would be tipping her hat or raising a glass to him, because quite frankly he was incredibly _stupid_.   
  
He had, after all, allowed herself, Reginald and Francis down without checking either of them out. No back ground checks or anything, just a simple list of rules and regulations and that was it. They were aloud to do as they pleased and really in later time, he may come to regret that.   
  
Carefully stepping out of the bathysphere that allowed to travel from Arcadia to the slowly being furnished Department store, she wasn’t surprised to find men already working there. Fixing up signs and electrics for the shops which would soon be filling these empty rooms. Ms Lokken had certainly taken to her role very quickly, organising the men, but recently she’d been a little shaken. Some accident at Hephestus had left her quiet and… not all there, which was quite concerning, especially since now she was heading a team responsible for building this place. Still, it seemed she was doing good work, so whilst she maybe withdrawn and quiet in recent times, her skill had not gone.   
  
Walking up a set of stairs Katherine finally found the person she was looking for.   
  
Francis, or Frank as he much preferred and would constantly complain at Katherine to be called, was stood on a small balcony section of the department store, staring out at the rest of the glowing city. How much had changed, she still remembered that time he’d been a little ten year old street rat, frozen from cold and deathly sick, but still as sharp as a knife. She had warned Reggie at the time, but the bruiser had always been soft at heart, a little too caring at times and he certainly held a soft spot for Frank.   
  
Even though the bruiser wouldn’t say it out loud, he very much viewed Fontaine as a son, even if Frank was the boss.   
  
At the sound of her heels clicking against the floor, his head turned in her direction but not the whole way. “Limey?”   
  
“I don’t think, Ms Lokken would be wearing heels in her job,” she replied primly, “Speaking of, how is she today? Still quiet?”   
  
“Dunno, haven’t seen her,” he turned to her fully now and flashed a grin. “How’s the boys doin’ at the dock?”   
  
“Last I checked everything was fine,” she stepped closer to whisper softly. “And I’ll have to thank you for the tea. I tried some of that stuff they call tea at the aptly named ‘tea gardens’ in Arcadia.”   
  
“Goin’ by your tone, it weren’t to your standards.”  
  
“It was simply leaves with hot water poured on them.”   
  
“Ain’t that-.”   
  
“Francis, you don’t drink it, you don’t understand,” she looked up at him and scrunched her nose up. “You pour bourbon into your coffee for goodness sake.”   
  
Frank winced a little at the name, looking back out to sea again. “I enjoy the taste…” he said absentmindedly.   
  
He wasn’t really paying attention to her anymore, he was thinking on something else, Limey could tell. She’d watched him grow up, just about, she knew when he was planning something. There were always a few little ticks and gestures, a nervous habit he’d often run his hand over his head. Mostly he did it to give him time to think, but occasionally it would come out as a tell, when they played poker on a quiet night in.   
  
Still, seeing him standing in a building he owned, with his name on the front, yes it was… odd and she was a little proud of him. It was an impressive feat for a grifter, to own something like the department store or even the fisheries. To have the spotlight and still not be caught, yes she was very proud.   
  
Frank had always been a thief at heart, when he was still a boy he’d pickpocket, running up and down the New York streets snatching wallets and purses, gradually moving on to watches and jewellery too. His movements had always been so careful and smooth, she’d watch him on the streets sometimes when she had nothing to do and occasionally he’d very much move like a dancer.   
  
Then as he got older, he filled out, like most boys do, making him broader across the shoulders and with certain parts of manual labour he had to do, he soon built up muscle. It was a funny process to watch. Watching that ten year old street rat, who looked like a mere breeze could’ve knocked him over, grow up to a still lanky teenager but getting some muscle to the now strong backed late twenty year old that stood in front of her.   
  
Still, she stood by her previous statement, she was proud of him. Having seen him at an age where he could barely read or write, let alone do math to running an entire business and opening more, while smuggling in goods… well yes it was all very impressive.   
  
She’d taught him, how to read, write and to do maths, she’d even taught him how to forge documents. Whilst Frank had his own forger on the surface, it was always good to know how yourself as a backup. Now, at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, the only people who could do it were Frank and herself. Mostly she did it, while he came up with a new business venture and she managed the books and accounts.   
  
It was a good system, Frank was the brains of the outfit, always had been when it came to the very big cons, Reggie was the muscle and perfect man for grunt work, while she kept all the documents neat and ordered, keeping special close attention to the accounts and inventory from the submarine.   
  
One thing that did keep popping up on the recent lists were these… sea slugs. By one Doctor Tenenbaum.   
  
Limey had heard stories about her, little whispers the boys at the docks would share amongst each other, or even the workers here. Apparently she used to work for Sinclair but was now a free agent, as it were. Mostly she just seemed, to Limey, to be a very intelligent young woman, constantly being brushed aside by other people in the scientific community.   
  
“Francis…” she started looking around again to make sure no one was listening. “I think there is something that is worth you attention going on at the docks.”   
  
“Oh? One of those idiots thinkin’ they can rat me out to Ryan?”   
  
“Oh no, your recent example of the last fool who thought of doing that has seemed to settle any such ideas,” Limey took her glasses off to clean them. “No, there’s this… Doctor… Tenenbaum. You may have heard of her?”   
  
“The geneticist right?”   
  
“Yes, that’s the one. Recently she’s been…. Requesting some slugs…” Limey held her glasses up to the light to check for marks or stains. “Sea slugs to be exact. I’ve never seen such creatures in any of my books, they’re quite peculiar looking things. I think she’s experimenting on them… certainly been buying them in bulk.”   
  
Frank looked intrigued, stepping closer and looking up at Limey’s glasses too. “You thinkin’ we should angle towards some science stuff?”   
  
“Certainly. We could give that Sinclair fellow a run for his money. I heard he fired Tenenbaum… on ethics? I’m not quite sure of the whole details, but I’ll keep digging.”   
  
“I’m certain you will, Limes, though.. I like that idea with the science angle,” he gently took her glasses from her, cleaning them himself. “Since we both know how much Ryan’s pushing for the scientific community in Rapture to expand… well what sort of a businessman would I be if I didn’t look into that? Besides, always did find this science stuff interesting…” he handed her now cleaned glasses back. “Your science books were good entertainment on rainy days.”   
  
“Indeed,” she slipped her glasses back on. “As my little birds have told me, she’s been turned away by all of Rapture’s respectable labs, which is why she came to us in the first place.”   
  
“Must of really done something bad… to get that kind of reaction in Rapture,” Fontaine raised an eyebrow. “You sure we need that kind of publicity?”   
  
“I think you can handle it, wordsmith like you shouldn’t have much issues in directing the public eye else where.”  
  
Frank laughed softly, sneaking his hand in her pocket and pulling out five wallets and two bracelets. “Directing attention from me or from you, old girl? Just can’t help ya’self can you?”   
  
Limey raised an eyebrow at him and lifted her own hand containing six wallets and watch. “Pot calling the kettle black, Francis?”   
  
“Old habits… ain’t that the saying?” he handed her back her stolen goods as she did him. “Besides, I liked the watch.”   
  
She slipped the wallets back in her skirts pockets and slipped the bracelets on, quickly covering them with her long sleeved cardigan. Limey then promptly straightened out the rest of her outfit, glancing out to sea at the city and the sea life. A wale and a few turtles passed by, carefully navigating around the city that was in their natural home.   
  
“What were you thinking about earlier?” She asked, turning her attention back to Frank. “You certainly looked deep in thought.”   
  
Fontaine didn’t answer immediately, he looked back out at the sea and city, even glancing at the same set of turtles Limey had been watching for just a moment.   
  
“Just trying to figure out my next move… the department store is good, for now at least, but this… science angle you’re talking about, well it might of just been the thing I was looking for. Ryan’s pushing into the markets and fish futures, tryna’ muscle me out no doubt. Ryan’s problem is… well, he don’t broaden his horizon.”   
  
“And is a complete fool.”  
  
Frank laughed, turning to her and offering his arm, which she took. The two began their descent of the balcony, heading towards one of the shop stores Frank had already laid claim to. Something about turning it into a bar and having certain time frames when the real alcohol from the surface would be served.   
  
“You ain’t a fan of our dear founder?” He teased with a wink. “You shock me, Limes.”   
  
“I’m not a fan of _incompetence_ , for or against me. Ryan was the… big fish, if you will, in New York but down here… well there’s sharks. I don’t think he’s quite prepared for that,” she paused and pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Truth be told, I’m more worried about what he’ll do… once everything slips away from him.”   
  
“We got contingency plans, you know that.”   
  
“Yes, as one always should, but Francis… you may wish to speak to Ms Lokken. I’ve heard whispers of a building on the south side of Rapture. You wouldn’t be able to see it, if you didn’t know it was there. Sinclair has something to do with it.”   
  
“Persephone,” Fontaine hummed. “Yeah. I heard of it. You ain’t the only one with spies, Limes.”   
  
“I’m aware of that,” Limey said looking around at the men building fixing more lights and beams in place. “My point is, I’ve heard that it’s going to be a prison. What… if Ryan get’s a little…” she shrugged slightly and gave him a firm look only to find a grin thrown back at her.   
  
“Oh, I’m countin’ on it. Like I said, old girl, don’t you worry. I got it all sorted. Contingency plans and backdoors. It’s all in place, should we need it,” Fontaine patted her hand reassuringly. “No matter what, you, me and Reggie are gonna be fine. We’ll be gone if the heat get’s too much for us, but have we ever had a moment when it was too much? We’ll be fine, Ryan ain’t gonna know what hit him.”   
  
She pursed her lips together. She wanted to believe him, of course she did and he was right; they’d never had a problem before. A way out was always planned before the way in. Multiple ways out and exit strategies, weather it be faking their deaths or getting rid of the evidence, there had always been a way out. Only this time it felt like… the way out wasn’t going to be as clear cut.   
  
They were fathoms beneath the ocean after all.   
  
Still, Frank hadn’t failed them yet and he always knew when to call it quits, but recently this little grift had become a near obsession. On the surface he’d sit alone going over every little piece of information he’d been able to get his hands on about Ryan’s secret project, worked every angle he could, followed every lead. Like he was chasing a high.   
  
Limey would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little concerned, he’d never gotten like this about any other con after all. Then again, no other con had been worth millions and if they could get that… well, they’d be sitting pretty and living the high life for the rest of their lives. No more grifts, no more scams, early retirement and a summer home. She might even treat herself to a trip to England, maybe take Reggie and Frank with her so she could show them her home.   
  
She’d always wanted to take Frank to London, as a boy, she had a feeling he’d love it there, but they never had enough money. Maybe after this scam… they could go? Try out London’s criminal underworld, maybe travel the globe and get a hook in all countries if retirement didn’t suit Frank at such a young age?   
  
For now, such fantasies would have to wait. They had a job to do and a city to snatch, probably the biggest thing they’d ever stolen. The way things were going, it certainly looked like they were well on their way to owning Rapture. Steal it right out of Ryan’s pocket without a fuss.   
  
“You drawn up those invites?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
Frank looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. “You drawn up the invites for those shop owners you were going on about? Renting out space round here?”  
  
“Ah yes, already sent and received. We’ve even had the replies back. I sorted through them, all replied interested, as expected. I left it at your penthouse, it’s in your study,” she pushed her glasses up her nose. “In the mean time, shall I keep an eye on this Tenenbaum woman?”   
  
He nodded slowly, thinking it through in his head. “Sure. Yeah, keep on that. If she keeps going for… try and find out what it is she’s working on… grab that slant too.”   
  
“Suchong?”   
  
“Yeah, that’s the one,” helped her into the awaiting bathysphere, before following her inside. “I heard he’s been getting… a little frustrated with limitations. He wants more, imagine so does this Tenenbaum.. why not give it them? Could be a good deal in the process.”   
  
“And if it’s not?”   
  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he paused. “But I don’t think faking a lab accident will be too different to faking a work accident by the docks.”   
  
“Might be time to brush off my old science texts,” Limey mused. “I’m sure I could come up with something.”   
  
“Limey you both please and scare me,” he suddenly casted her a very serious look, now they were in the safety of the bathysphere where no one could listen in. “Now I think we should talk about that other thing.”   
  
“What other thing?”   
  
“You know…” he said darkly. “The jewellery store, Limey.”  
  
She kept her face neutral and didn’t look at him, but if you looked closely or if you knew her well, you would be able to see the smirk. It was hiding beneath the passive look, but Frank knew her, grew up around her and was able to spot it instantly.   
  
“Katherine…”   
  
“Dear god, was that so hard?” She turned to him fully now, looking both annoyed and pleased. “Was it so hard to call me ‘Katherine’?”   
  
“Yes, Limes. Just as hard as it is for you ta call me ‘Frank’.”   
  
She snorted in amusement. “I always find your name so ironic. There’s nothing ‘frank’ about you,” looking back at him she raised an eyebrow. “Do you think your mother knew what you’d become and named you as such for her own amusement?”   
  
“I’m going on a whim here, but I’d say, no. Besides, don’t think that bitch held me long enough to even come up with a name,” he replied hotly. “She weren’t no mother. Certainly no mother of mine. May have given birth to me, but she sure as hell weren’t my mother.”   
  
“Then who was, Francis?”   
  
He didn’t answer. He never would answer, she realised, as he instead made a demand that she stopped stealing, before dropping the topic completely.   
  
See that was the thing, Limey may have… raised him from the age of ten, but his life before that was a mystery to her as it was to Reggie also. He didn’t like to talk about it. She’d tried figuring things out, was able to get that he’d grown up in an orphanage for a time and wasn’t very well behaved. He flinched and hid his hands behind his back the first time she’d pulled a ruler out when they were doing fractions.   
  
The time after the orphanage and before herself and Reggie, however, was a mystery. Unknown and by the looks of things it would remain unknown.   
  
Occasionally he’d open up, usually when he was drunk and feeling like reminiscing, but other then that he didn’t speak about it much. She got that he used to work backstage as a stage hand, which is where he picked up how to act, the use of costumes and makeup. She’d caught him at the age of twelve dancing once, while singing along and the steps had been perfect. It had only ever been _once_ though, because as soon as she made a comment about it he went ballistic. Ran off to sulk somewhere and didn’t come back until the late hours of the evening. She never brought it up again and never saw him do it again either.   
  
He once mentioned that one of the actresses had been nice to him and taught him a few things. Limey guessed this actress had taught him everything, but when she asked him about her, he’d gotten misty eyed before bolting. He didn’t come back for two days and like when she caught him dancing, she never brought it up again.   
  
The last time he’d spoken about life behind the stage he’d been fourteen. They’d happen to have passed the place one day and he didn’t move, just stood still and… stared. Didn’t take his eyes off the building until one of the actors came out and recognised him. Then he ran again, ran straight home and to his room. She’d tried to get him to talk about it, telling him it wasn’t good to keep things bolted up, but he refused. Said something along the lines of it not being her business and that whatever he had there was buried anyway, no point dwelling on it.   
  
Didn’t stop Limey from researching of course. She came across an old article in the library one time, about an actress dying as a result of a tragic accident. She’d fallen down some stairs, presumably, broke her neck in the fall. Later, Limey came across another article about the same theatre, this time one of the actors had hung themselves. Turned out he’d pushed the young actress down the stairs when she wouldn’t give it up. Possibly he had not meant to kill her, but he still had.   
  
Needless to say, once Limey had discovered this, she’d looked at Francis a little differently. He no longer was an orphan boy who stole due to circumstances, oh no, he was a murderer. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling he had something to do with the actor’s death. No narcissistic bastard like him would hang themselves and if they did, they certainly wouldn’t admit to a potential rape and certain murder. It was too clear cut and whilst she believed that he did try to do those things to that actress, she did not believe he felt guilty enough to kill himself over it.   
  
She’d brought it up in conversation once, casually, as though she was talking about the weather. Frank had instantly looked up at her, a funny expression on his face. Even to this day she couldn’t quite place it, but it haunted her. It was not the expression you’d expect to see on a fourteen year old, but she wasn’t quite certain it was an expression she’d see on an adult either.   
  
Whilst she may not have been able to figure out that expression, she knew what the final expression his face took was, once she’d ended talking about it. She’d said something about how the actor had deserved it, then looked right at Francis and he looked right back at her…with a smile.

* * *

  
Sullivan sighed as he trudged on through to Ryan’s office, hands deep in his pockets and head down. It honestly felt like being called to the principles office, which was probably why he was walking like a down trodden school boy.   
  
He still hadn’t caught the thief and it had been at least a month now, almost becoming two month. Ryan was not pleased, but the robberies had seemed to of died down for now.   
  
Sullivan didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand it could mean the thief had been caught or they’d died. On the other hand it could also mean they were planning something big and Sullivan wasn’t too sure he was ready for that. Between this thief, Fontaine’s smuggling and now having to keep an eye on this… Lokken woman, he was stretched pretty thin.   
  
Diane smiled at him as he approached and he nodded back before entering Ryan’s office, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of questions.   
  
What he did not expect was to find Augustus Sinclair, of all people, in the office already sitting opposite Ryan.   
  
The southern gentleman had a pleased smirk on his face, to be honest, Sullivan wasn’t sure there’d been a time he’d ever seen it off his face. Even his photo on his identification card held an image of him smirking.   
  
He’d spoken to Sinclair before, keeping an eye on things down in the drop, well, Sullivan was more than a little content to let things rot down there. People weren’t supposed to be living down there long time, but for some it was the only housing they could afford. He’d maybe suggest to Ryan putting up housing somewhere else, let the flop houses rot, but that sounded almost like charity and truth be told, Sullivan had too much on his plate to worry about politics.   
  
Sinclair looked relaxed and very pleased with himself, casually smoking a cigarette from the ivory holder he had, leg’s crossed as he sat back in his seat.   
  
“Ah, Sullivan,” Andrew Ryan spoke from behind his desk, gesturing to the chair next to Sinclair’s. “Take a seat. We’ve been waiting for you.”   
  
Andrew Ryan was not a very tall or big man, but his presence practically filled the entire room. Almost loomed over you in its size. His hair was slicked back and well trimmed, as was the pencil moustache, which looked like it’d been waxed. His suit was a light hazel, almost matched the colour of his office walls, neat and just so. Everything about Ryan was neat and just so, just how he liked it. Nothing out of shape and everything in it’s place.   
  
What was most surprising was the apparent good mood Ryan seemed to be in, he was even smiling, which was not an expression Sullivan often saw on his face. Mostly because whenever Ryan needed to talk to Sullivan it was usually about a problem he had and needed solving.   
  
“Mister Ryan,” he nodded to him as he took a seat, glancing at Augustus, who smiled pleasantly back at him. “Sinclair.”  
  
“Evenin’ chief. How goes the thief hunt?”   
  
Sullivan froze a second before relaxing in his chair as much as he could.   
  
Of course, Sinclair would bring that up, of course he would. The smug bastard had probably been following it all in the paper, since Poole had not taken Sullivan’s warning. He’d written about the robberies anyway and if Sullivan’s boys had taken a little longer than usual to respond to a disturbance at the Tribune involving the man? Well, Sullivan was stretched _thin_. Couldn’t be everywhere at once.   
  
Still, he knew better than to give Sinclair the satisfaction of having gotten to him, so instead he smiled tightly back at him, settling a little more in the seat.   
  
“Nothin’ my men can’t handle. Round the clock survalence.”   
  
“Must be workin’, Chief. I haven’t heard a peep from this crook in a long time. Maybe you scared ‘em off.”   
  
“Yeah, maybe,” he turned to Ryan with a confused expression. “What do you need Mister Ryan? I’m still turning up cold on that Fontaine guy and Lokken seems clean.”   
  
At the mention of the woman’s name, Sinclair actually seemed to freeze a little this time, but it was there and gone. Maybe Sullivan imagined it.   
  
“Yes, I don’t believe Ms Lokken has anything to do with it,” Ryan nodded. “Too smart to get mixed up in such business and we still have no clear proof it’s Fontaine. Though this department store of his sounds like an interesting investment. My young rival is making good progress it would seem,” he smiled at that, eyes lighting up with almost excitement. “We shan’t do anything against Mister Fontaine until we have clear proof that he has something to do with the smuggling.”   
  
“Begging your pardon, Mister Ryan, but there seems to be a lot of accidents happenin’ down there. _A lot_ of accidents.”   
  
Ryan waved it off. “Accidents happen, Sullivan. Why just the other day one of the workers in Hephestus met an unfortunate end in Heatloss monitoring. Some things can’t be helped, but this thief…. Yes this thief has to be dealt with and fast.”  
  
“I’m workin’ on it, Mister Ryan,” he frowned slightly. “Like Sinclair said, they seemed to of gone to ground for now,” he turned to Sinclair who smiled at him in return. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mister Ryan, why is Sinclair here?”   
  
“Ah, it’s to do with this thief business.”   
  
“Oh?” Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “You have a break in or something?”  
  
Augustus laughed, taking a drag from the cigarette. “No, Chief, nothing like that, but I was mighty curious just where exactly you were plannin’ on locking up this poor soul once all’s said and done.”   
  
Sullivan frowned and gave a little shrug. “We’d figure that out, but we got to catch the bastard first. They’re tricky, especially now they’ve disappeared,” he narrowed his eyes a little. “Why’d you care?”   
  
“Well, you see Chief,” Augustus pulled the end of the cigarette out of his holder and stubbed it out in the astray on Ryan’s desk. “I might just have the solution to that problem. See, I got some boys working on a little project of mine. You ever look south of Rapture? There’s a building there, what’ll be the headquarters of Sinclair Solutions, once it’s up and runnin’. I call it ‘Persephone’, two of Ryan’s best electrical engineers are heading the project in their off hours, it’s out of the way so I understand if you haven’t seen it.”   
  
“You talking about that building over the trench?”   
  
“That one, exactly,” Ryan said, a smug smile on his face. “Mister Sinclair, is the new owner and he, as he said, is working towards making us a place where we can… quietly dispose of issues, should we say? This thief, for example. I had hoped that such measures would not have to be taken, but it would seem that the parasite has followed us down here. I’ve heard the Farmer’s Market has had a few robberies, food and drink being stolen.”   
  
Sullivan blinked. “I wasn’t aware of that…”   
  
“I had Karlosky look into it,” Ryan admitted. “I’ve been piling a lot on you recently, Sullivan, there’s only so much a man can do on his own.”   
  
Sullivan had a suspicion that it was more to do with Ryan trusting Karlosky to deal with it than him. Simply because the Russian was loyal to a fault and Sullivan was, but he still had a few lines he wouldn’t cross. Still, he was one of Ryan’s most trusted, he wasn’t the Chief of security for nothing. Ryan telling him now, was better than not telling him at all.   
  
“Right, well I’ll look into that now too, Mister Ryan,” he looked back at Sinclair. “So you’re buildin’ a prison?”   
  
Sinclair gave a little smile. “More a… correctional facility,” he looked up at Ryan. “Always best to give our fellow man a second chance, I find. They tripped up and made a mistake, we’ll just pick ‘em back up and help them out. You never know…” he mused lighting a new cigarette, not bothering with the holder this time. “They might be more useful to Rapture coming out the other side. What you say, Chief? Little rehabilitation never hurt anyone.”   
  
He grimaced slightly, looking up at Ryan who smiled at him, but there was something in his eyes that said Sullivan had better agree or the first resident of this ‘correctional facility’ would be Sullivan himself.   
  
“Sure,” he muttered. “Sounds reasonable. So long as they do come out the other side better. What happens if they come out worse?” _What happens if some don’t come out at all?_ He thought in the privacy of his own head.   
  
“Well, we’ll just have to try extra hard to help the poor sap out,” Sinclair crooned.   
  
“I’m sure we’ll find a use for them,” Ryan replied. “Perhaps this thief, once rehabilitated, could help with security.”   
  
“Waste not, want not. I like your style, Andy,” Sinclair grinned.   
  
Sullivan shifted uncomfortably. “What about the one’s who don’t want to be… rehabilitated. Repeat offenders and all that?”   
  
Ryan was quiet a moment, looking out of the big floor to ceiling windows of his office which had a perfect view of the volcanic landscape that powered Hephestus. It casted an orange glow across the office, making everything seem hazy, but it didn’t make the room feel cozy. Wrong kind of colouring. If anything, it exuded power and fire, not the setting for a comfortable office, Sullivan didn’t think.   
  
“I’m sure…” Ryan spoke, after hesitating. “We’ll find a use for them,” he turned back to them with a calm expression. “What was it you said, Sinclair? _Waste not, want not_?”   
  
Next to him, Sullivan noticed that Sinclair didn’t seem quite as relaxed as before, but the man offered a smile and a nod of his head.   
  
“Right you are, Mister Ryan.”   
  
“How soon do you think you’ll have Persephone ready, Sinclair?”   
  
“Well, I’ve only got two of your finest working on it at the moment, the rest are some poor souls just lookin’ for a decent amount of work. Some of my more worse off tenants in the Sinclair Deluxe just been begging for a decent few days wage. Might even try to get that Norsky working for me too.”   
  
“Won’t be able to do that,” Sullivan said, a small smile pulling at his lips. “She’s already taken up another job. Working for Fontaine again, heading his operation with that department store he’s building.”   
  
“Ms Em does seem to get around,” Sinclair mused. “And ol’ Frankie Fontaine beatin’ me to the punch.”   
  
“Yes…” Ryan mused. “Fontaine seems to be making quite the headway. Simple evidence that Rapture is thriving and Ms Lokken’s own ventures are further proof. Though, let us hope she remembers who’s contract she signed first.”   
  
“Sure she does, Chief,” Sinclair was quick to assure. “I keep an eye on the woman when I see her. A real head spinner, is Ms Em. Sure we can work something out.”  
  
“Not if she’s working for Fontaine, you won’t,” Sullivan huffed.   
  
“Then I guess I’ll just have to have a word with Fontaine,” Sinclair replied with a shrug. “I’m sure we’ll be able to reach a mutual understanding.”   
  
Sullivan doubted that, of what he knew of Fontaine, he very much doubted there’d be any understanding when it came to Sinclair taking one of his best workers.   
  
Still, on Sinclair’s head be it.

* * *

  
Limey stared down at the outfit in question. The black almost oriental style long shirt with the tight fitting black trousers, long black gloves and black ballet pumps. She’d brought it down in secret, no one else knew she had it. Not even Frank or Reggie.   
  
She opened another case and pulled out a black scarf, taking her outfit and walking behind the screen she quickly got changed into the clothing, wrapping the scarf around her head and fixing the gloves on.   
  
With that done, she grabbed her home made tool belt and fastened it around her middle, packing her lock picks, small glass cutter, one of her small pearl handled pistols and finally a small screw driver set.   
  
Walking over to a picture of London, which hung on a wall in her bedroom above the head of her bed, she carefully placed it next to the bedside to reveal a hole in the wall. It had been carved out recently, it was just big enough for her to fit through and not leave any evidence behind.   
  
Limey pulled the scarf over her mouth and nose so the dust wouldn’t get into her lungs and cause her to cough, before climbing into the hole she’d made and crawling into the dark.   
  
She knew the way, so she didn’t need a torch of any kind, finally she reached metal and felt a breeze. She’d reached the air vent she’d found when building the tunnel. Well that was a lie, she’d actually gone over the schematics of this part of Rapture and planned how to get to the air vent without being seen. How she got the schematics? She stole them of course and promptly placed them back after memorising what she needed.   
  
Now she had a direct line to the ventilation system and therefor, access to all shops after closing.   
  
Simply stealing from the cash register was never Limey’s thing. In London she’d become a renowned cat burglar, free climbing up the side of buildings, picking the locks and taking their jewellery and diamonds. No one caught her because no one suspected it was a woman doing it. They didn’t think a woman could do it, it was the twenties after all and the very idea of a woman free climbing was just absurd, so Limey got away with it.   
  
She'd moved to New York when London became too boring for her and it was there that she met Reggie. They made a deal, she would cook and do other house chores and he’d protect her from any of the less than desirable lot in the slums of the Bronx. In the evenings she’d go out and steal, climb into the rich people’s homes, hell she’d even robbed a museum or two.   
  
Never caught and never would be caught, everyone ended up looking for a man.  
  
Finally, after a lot of crawling, she found the exit to the air vent and slipped out, landing in the middle of the jewellery store. It was locked up tight, silent as the grave, not a hint of security.   
  
There was just her, the diamonds and the night.   
  
How wonderful.   
  
“Alright girls,” Limey crooned inspecting one of the diamonds and holding it up to the little light that entered the shop. “Lets find you a more suitable home.”

* * *

  
_Augustus Sinclair,_   
  
_Fontaine’s wild card:_   
  
_Now I may not know how ta weld but I know good work when I see it. Fontaine’s got himself a bona fide genius when it comes to the art of engineerin’ and the like. I happen to know the dame too, one of my many tenants at the Sinclair Deluxe. One Emilie Lokken, woman is as short tempered as a lit fuse and as sharp as a knife._   
  
_Always have to put my good foot forward with her._   
  
_Fontaine better watch his step, Ms Em, as she’s favoured to be called, isn’t your typical run of the mill dame, she’s a wild card who you gotta be careful of if ya find her in your deck._


	7. Can't help falling in love with you

_Kelly Christie,_

_A good scratch:_   
  
_Rich or poor a good scratch is a good scratch. Been having some fun with a Mister O’Riley recently, isn’t very rich but the man is a beast. Maybe not the best looking due to his being a mess but he’s got the goods in all the right places to make up for it. Heh, our fun got a little loud last time, pretty certain the neighbours heard._   
  
_Diane was all shocked, ‘what will the neighbours say?’_   
  
_Well honey, I say let em talk. Maybe they’ll learn a thing or two._

* * *

  
Opal took a deep breath, walking off the stage as the crowd cheered and whistled. It was another successful night and she would be grateful to get off the stage and take a drink. Her skin prickled against the lights and some sweat glimmered on her forehead, which she wiped away as she headed to the bar.   
  
Leaning against the bar was Kelly, she was clapping enthusiastically like the rest of the crowd, seeming to of gained quite the crowd herself. Men were at her on all sides, clearly trying to be the lucky one she’d choose to go home with.   
  
Opal pushed through the crowd to Kelly who already had a drink for her ready.   
  
“You knocked them dead,” she cheered. “I haven’t seen Rosa, Em couldn’t make it because she’s working on that department store.”   
  
Opal grimaced slightly. “Rosa probably couldn’t make it because she was doing extra hours for Steinman.”   
  
“I’m sensing some hostility there, Opal,” she leaned on the bar frowning slightly. “Not a fan of the famed surgeon?”   
  
The singer picked up her glass and downed the drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar top. “You and I both know what it’s like to be looked at by a man who wants to get his leg over.” Kelly nodded along, taking a little sip of her own drink as Opal continued. “But that bastard…” she snarled. “I don’t know, but he sure as hell doesn’t look at me or Rosa or anyone, for that matter, in a way that… well he just doesn’t look at her like she’s a person! She’s just a big in a jar for him, but she can’t see it.”   
  
“Ah,” Kelly nodded. “Rose tinted glasses, I see.”   
  
“Rose tinted glasses?” Opal snorted. “More like rose tinted blindness.”   
  
“She’s young…” Kelly said softly. “She’ll learn… eventually, she’ll learn. Sometimes you have to have your heart broken,” turning back to her own drink, her expression fell distant. “Sometimes you have to have your heart broken.. so you can fix it with iron.”   
  
“I don’t want my sister to have to go through that.”   
  
“Oh, no one wants to. No one wishes that on anyone,” Kelly nodded her head in agreement. “Never the less, it is a lesson we must all learn. Regardless if we are ready to learn it or not.”   
  
“I… suppose you’re right,” she laughed a little, shaking her head. “Look at me? Being the big sister, same as always. Sometimes I don’t even realise I’m doing it.”   
  
“Rosa has someone looking out for her, that’s a damn sight more then what some folk have got in this town.”   
  
“True. Sometimes though I feel I take the role on too strongly. Rosa’s all I got left of my family now… I can’t loose her.”   
  
“Jesus, Opal,” Kelly giggled. “We just came out of a war, leave the depressing talk for those who don’t want to move on. You’re talking like something bad is going to happen,” she gestured around herself. “Look at where we are, paradise! Nothing is gonna go wrong.”   
  
“I know,” Opal looked at Kelly and smirked. “You think you could find a tighter fitting dress?”  
  
Kelly looked down at her gold sequinned dress with a black Art Deco pattern running through it and shrugged a little, a smirk playing at her face.   
  
“What? No good? I’m just trying to attract a possible partner,” she said, sipping at her cocktail.   
  
Opal laughed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, hun, but I’m not the only one with an audience,” she nodded to all the men who were blatantly staring at Kelly.   
  
“Are you sure they’re not staring at you?”   
  
“Honey, they’re staring at you,” she looked them over and sighed. “Would you at least put one of the poor saps out of their misery?”   
  
“I have to pick first,” she waved her off, scanning the crowd herself. “There’s an art form to this.”   
  
“M-Miss Delores?”   
  
Kelly and Opal turned to see a young man with startling blue eyes, brunette hair desperately combed down, but with a few wisps at all angles and his suit hung off his figure awkwardly and there was a general nervous disposition about his whole demeanour. He wouldn’t stop fidgeting at all, poor thing was probably nervous.   
  
“Yes, hun, can I help you?”   
  
“I- Um, I just wanted to say you.. have a fantastic voice and are really pretty- no beautiful! Ah- if I’m not being too forward- that is if I am being too forward I ah, I apologise and-.”   
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
“My what?”   
  
“Your name?” Opal smiled politely, standing a little straighter as Kelly looked on in sympathy for her friend.   
  
“Oh. My name’s Daniel, Daniel Warren-.”   
  
“Daniel?!” Kelly blinked with wide eyes. “My god- I didn’t recognise you!”  
  
Daniel looked like a dear in headlights, blinking rapidly at Kelly, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, Miss Christie, good evening.”   
  
“It’s so good to see you. I’ve noticed I’m paying some of your wages now,” she winked before turning to Opal. “A friend of Em’s, one of the workers of Hephestus.”  
  
“Ah,” Opal smiled, turning back to Daniel. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet a friend of Em’s.”   
  
“T-thank you, but that’s not why I’m here. I didn’t know you… knew Ms Em,” he twitched a little and rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s ah- she’s a private person. Miss Delores-.”   
  
“Call me Opal, honey. Any friend of Em’s is a friend of mine.”   
  
“I- I’d like to keep this proper, Miss Delores. Out of respect for you,” Daniel fidgeted again. “In fact I’d… very much like to take you out to Arcadia, perhaps the tea gardens?”   
  
Kelly rose an eyebrow, eyes flickering to Opal who looked just as shocked as she was.   
  
Daniel was certainly shooting above himself, though when was he not? From what Kelly had heard the man was as prolific in the dating department as she was in the bedroom, with significantly less success. He seemed to have made an effort this time, on his appearance and he didn’t look drunk either. It was why she didn’t recognise him. A few days before she would’ve been able to pick his disheveled form out of a crowd but like this? Well, all he’d need was a confidence boost and he’d be the type of man Kelly would go for.   
  
“Are you… asking me on a date?”   
  
He nodded once, before speaking. “Yes- yes I am,” he looked a little more confident now. “It would be a honour. If you’ll have me, of course.”   
  
Opal seemed to consider it a moment. “Okay.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“What?” Kelly said at the same time as Daniel, staring at her.   
  
Opal shrugged. “I said okay. I’ll meet you at Arcadia tomorrow night at seven. Sound okay to you, hun?”   
  
Daniel opened and closed his mouth, looking stunned. It was clear by his face he’d not expected her answer to be yes and was now at a loss of what to do.   
  
“I- err- I, yes. Yes that’s fine!” He spluttered before offering her a shy, almost boyish smile and damn. Why didn’t he lead with _that_? Knock anyone out of the park. “Yes, Miss Delores, that’d be perfect. I’ll see you there,” he looked relieved and started to walk backwards, stumbling into a few other patrons, muttering a quick sorry. He turned back to Opal and smiled that shy and relived smile, before darting out of the lounge.   
  
Kelly blinked, looking back at Opal in shock. “What in gods green earth just happened? You do realise who you just said ‘yes’ too, right?”   
  
“Daniel Warren, is who I’ve said yes to.”   
  
“No, you don’t understand,” she shook her head. “That man is.. he’s one of Em’s friends, did you just say yes because of that?”   
  
Opal raised an eyebrow. “Do you not know me at all? Of course I didn’t,” she shrugged. “Felt a little sorry for him. He was trying his best after all, but… then he smiled,” she smiled softly at the thought of it. “It was awful sweet.”   
  
“Alright, fine. I’ll give you that,” Kelly rolled her eyes. “But this is _Daniel Warren_ , we’re talking about.”   
  
“You say that like it should have some significance to me?”   
  
“Ah, no of course it wouldn’t.”   
  
“So then why…?”   
  
“Because!” Kelly waved her arms slightly. “Honestly that man has had more failed dates than I have had bedroom experiences!”   
  
“Ooh… I very much doubt that.”   
  
The singer laughed as Kelly rolled her eyes and pouted. “Ha- ha! Very funny,” she looked around the room with a sigh. “Well, I better please myself haven’t I? Mister brown eyes or mister blue eyes?”   
  
Opal looked over, squinting slightly. “Oh, Mister brown eyes certainly.”   
  
“Mister brown eyes it is.”

* * *

  
Fontaine walked down one of the many unfinished corridors of the department store, newspaper held up so he could read it while he walked, letter of invitation for the annual Rapture anniversary ball clutched firmly in one hand.   
  
It was a big shindig thrown every year since he’d been in Rapture, celebrating the anniversary of the completion of Rapture itself and was open for all citizens, though usually only the higher class and wealthy businessmen went. The poor were there, of course, they needed people to be the waiters and waitresses after all. Damn the rich have to fetch their own drinks.   
  
It was a party and Fontaine would be expected to bring a date, it did say on his invite he could have a plus one. He was half tempted to go down and flirt with some random woman, hell maybe he could ask Marjorie? Nah, she was too close to Ryan and the old man would most likely fire her. She was too useful putting on an extra forty percent for him.   
  
He turned a corner but stopped short, raising an eyebrow at the sight in front of him.   
  
Em was under a desk, on a cart so she could wheel from underneath it and back again without any hassle. At the moment she was under the desk, only her legs were on show and even in the working scrubs they were a fine set of pins.   
  
Frank smirked slightly. “Hello legs…”   
  
As he got closer, a clatter was heard followed by a string of curses, both in English and some in Norwegian.   
  
He placed his foot on the cart and shifted it so she came shooting out, looking both stunned and annoyed. At the sight of him, her expression settled to being annoyed, which in all honesty was comforting to see. She hadn’t been quite the same since that accident at Hephestus, shaky almost and Frank had missed their verbal spats. Simply because it was just too damn entertaining to whined the woman up, then let her go and see what she’d do.   
  
“Swearing is unbecoming of a lady.”   
  
“Funny I’ve never been called a lady before.”   
  
Case and point, this conversation.   
  
“Yous ever wonder why that was?” He raised an eyebrow at her, while she narrowed her eyes at him. Challenging him to dare to make a comment. “You drink like a sailor, cuss like one too and you’re in those working scrubs every day.”   
  
“Well a dress would hardly be practical for the type of work I do.”   
  
“You even own a dress?”   
  
Em glared at him. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but yes. I do own a dress.”   
  
“Just the one?”   
  
“I only need one,” she leaned down and pulled herself back under the desk. “What are you doing here? Limey and Reggie gone home, so you decided to annoy me?”   
  
“You’re a valuable source of entertainment, Ms Em,” he smirked. “Especially when you’re in a mood. Brightens my day.”   
  
“Happy to be of service,” she drawled.   
  
He leaned on the desk she was working on, using his foot to roll the cart out from under the desk again and was promptly shot a dirty look once more.   
  
“Is there something you need?”   
  
“You seen this?” He held the invitation in her line of sight.   
  
“The big fancy shin dig they throw every year? Yeah, sure I’ve seen the adverts, heard it on the radio. All of Rapture invited! The poor to pour the drinks and the rich to get drunk. Ain’t my kind of scene, surprised you were even directly invited,” she looked back at him. “Since I don’t think Ryan would piss on you if you were on fire.”   
  
Frank snorted. “Ryan likes to keep his friends close and his enemies closer. He’s keeping an eye on me, hell might even try to talk to me.”   
  
“I pity the fool who makes that mistake.”  
  
“Watch your tone,” he snapped. “Remember who it is you’re working for.”   
  
Em raised an eyebrow at him. “I _work_ for the man who sent you that invite. This is extra time.”   
  
“And extra wage, which I think you want to get, don’t you?” He pointed at her with the invite. “Yous wanna move out that dump in the drop, you do as I say and you watch your tongue. I don’t pay you to yapp!”   
  
She pulled herself under the desk again. “With all due respect, Mister Fontaine, you were the one who found me.”   
  
Frank’s eye twitch and he yanked her out from under the desk again. “I’m sorry what was that?”   
  
“I said I’m getting on with my work, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
“Better.”   
  
They fell into silence again, Em going back to work while Frank looked over the invitation again. Honestly, he wasn’t sure who he was going to ask. He didn’t even know if he could be bothered, but something about turning up with a date on his arm, knowing full well Ryan would be one of the few who did have a date… sorta appealed. He could show off just as much as the old man and the best of it was Fontaine didn’t have to use his secretary. Technically his secretary was Limey and…   
  
He frowned slightly as a shudder went down his spine. He caught her once in her undergarments when he was a kid and that was enough. It was the same reaction as seeing your mother or your sister in their stockings and braces. A sight he very much wanted to scrub from his mind.   
  
Still, that didn’t solve his current problem and if he was beating Ryan in the business aspect of Rapture, why not beat him in the social aspect too? Plus, having a girl on his arm meant that most of those fat cats would be too busy staring at her to really clock on to what they were agreeing to.   
  
A sucker would always fall for a pretty face, Fontaine wasn’t blind, he could pick them out, but he wasn’t a sucker. He didn’t fall over his feet trying to catch the feelings of some dame who so much as winked at him. He’d seen many an idiot doing the same thing and would often laugh at them. Especially when said dame turned out to be someone like him who just didn’t give a damn and was using the poor bastard as a means to an end.   
  
Another set of curses brought him out of his musing and he looked down at the set of legs that were sticking out of the desk.   
  
“Says here ya can bring a plus one.”   
  
“Well I’m sure Reggie would look lovely in a dress. I recommend a light blue. Go with his eyes.”   
  
Frank smirked slightly. “Reggie ain’t who I was thinkin’, doll,” he used his foot to pull her out from under the table once more. “Was thinkin’ bout askin’ you.”   
  
“What?!” She sat up, shaking her head. “No! No, not going to happen! I work for you, I sure as hell ain’t your date or.. bit on the side!”   
  
He grinned. “Nice to see you remembered just who it was yous work for. Which means I can always pull up contract.”   
  
“You-“ she opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Pick someone else! You want someone to go with? I got a friend, Kelly, she’s great, would jump at the chance. Go with her, she’s more your type.”   
  
“Miss Christie is already goin’ with Sinclair.”   
  
“How do you-.”   
  
“I like to keep a tab on things,” he shrugged slightly. “Yeah, it’s gonna be you. You’ll distract those rich bastards easy. Just spruce you up a little bit and get rid of the grease… yeah I can see this working.”   
  
“So I’m what? Just a distraction?”   
  
“I’m sorry, you were expecting to be something else?”   
  
Em grit her teeth, hand thumbing over her wrench as she seemed to be mentally counting to ten to calm down. Fontaine knew just what to say to push her buttons and get her to lash out. She was pretty certain by this point he only did it out of amusement. He liked watching her go off the handle, as she’d been doing to most of the men down here when they didn’t listen to her.   
  
In the back of her mind she could hear Kelly egging her on. Telling her to just go for it, why waste an opportunity like this? This could be your chance to get noticed by more people than just Ryan and Fontaine.   
  
“A deal like this, is a two way street, Mister Fontaine,” she replied sharply. “ _If_ and that is a _very big_ if, I go with you, I expect you to treat me as a real date but also… show off my skills.”   
  
“Your skills?”   
  
“My welding skills,” she replied. “I’m no wordsmith, not like you. Those idiots in their fancy homes wouldn’t listen to a word I say, but they’d listen to you. I want you to get me contracts too.”   
  
Fontaine laughed, tilted his head back and laughed loudly. He was almost in hysterics, like this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard of. After finally calming down, he regarded her once more, face still holding an amused expression.   
  
“Yous should go into comedy, doll. You’d be good at it,” he grinned. “You want me to do the grunt work so you can have more business? Really? You think that’s going to work?”   
  
“As I said, you have your talents, I have mine. You’re talented when it comes to getting people to do things they don’t want to do,” she narrowed her eyes pointedly. “I should know. They won’t listen to me due to my status and the fact that I am a woman. You, however. They’d listen to you.”   
  
“I ain’t pandering to your needs, kid. I like you, Ms Em, like you almost too much to share. Hell it’s a hard time just sharing you with Ryan,” he winked at her. “I ain’t gonna be your sales pitch.”   
  
“You at least could get one business deal. It’s the least you could do.”   
  
“The least I could do, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Last I checked I was already paying you a substantial amount of money, a lot more money compared to Ryan for this little job and I could just as well get rid of you. Just like that!” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Better watch your step, Ms Em. Ya’ gettin’ a little too big for your boots.”   
  
“Or maybe I’m outgrowing them? I can’t stay trapped like this. I want more, being in charge of this operation has made me realise I want more. I’m not going to get it at Ryan’s,” she gestured vaguely behind her.   
  
“Sounds an awful lot like charity, Ms Em.”   
  
“Yeah and don’t you want to rattle Ryan’s cage?” She raised an eyebrow, before suddenly realising something. “The submarine.”   
  
“What about it?”   
  
In response she pulled out the packet of cigarettes that Reggie gave her and lit one. The smell of a real cigarette filled the air and Fontaine looked a little startled at first, standing up abruptly as Em took a drag and blew the smoke in his face.   
  
Neither said anything at first, she was playing her hand by not saying anything and instead smoking it.   
  
“And just how the hell do you know about that?”   
  
“I worked on the damn thing, didn’t I?” She took another drag and blew the smoke out. “Relax. I ain’t gonna rat you out in fact I want to purchase more cigarettes. Rapture’s tabbacco is awful. No, I want to make a deal.”   
  
“A deal?” He was reaching into his coat. “You’re in no position to make a deal. I got half a mind to put a bullet in ya’ right now.”   
  
Despite the threat on her life, Em looked quite calm. Smoking the contraband cigarette and looking over Fontaine a moment longer, before she glanced back and forth down the corridor.   
  
“You wouldn’t want to waste the bullet on little old me. Also, too much of a connection to you, Ryan would just be thrilled I’m sure. Taking you out early, no, you’re not stupid, you know that. I’d even wager you don’t have a gun in there at all, do you?”   
  
Fontaine seemed to relax a little, smirking and pulling out a cigar instead of a gun. “You got me. So. This deal?”   
  
“Like I said, I want you to help me get more business.”   
  
“And in return I’d be getting what exactly?” He lit the cigar, before stuffing the lighter back in his pocket and taking the cigar in hand. “ ‘Cause I don’t see anything in it for me.”   
  
“You do this for me? I’ll make a better compartment space for you to hide your contraband,” she flicked some ash off the end of the cigarette. “The one you have at the moment is good, but the inside measurements and the schematics don’t add up. If Ryan were to get one of the boys in Hephestus to look at it… well they’d be able to tell instantly, like I was.”   
  
“You never mentioned it.”   
  
“I was advised not to.”   
  
“And yet here you are,” he smirked, taking a drag of the cigar before blowing the smoke at the ceiling. “So, I get you some more clientele and you get me a better hiding spot for the goods I get from topside?”   
  
“Yes, that’s the idea. I was gonna ask you about the cigarettes, but now I think I might add real alcohol to that list too.”   
  
“How do I know I can trust you won’t go running to Ryan?”   
  
Em snorted, she took another drag of her cigarette looking him in the eye. “I ain’t scared of Ryan.”   
  
Well, that was certainly a deal maker.   
  
“But,” she carried on. “If you’re still worried. Let me assure you, Mister Fontaine, I’m loyal to a vice and if you let me help you feed said vice, then you have my loyalty also. I’m not going to dance around, I drink more then I should and I chain smoke like a champ. You feed me that and help my business grow? I’ll be more open to future work with you, work on the submarine for the secret compartment and I’ll go to this ball with you. I may… also consider making a part time contract with you.”   
  
“And the fact that I’m bringin’ in illegal goods?”   
  
She smiled at him. “We aren’t all so attached to our morals as we’d like to believe. Plus, it means I get to stick it to Ryan. I do good work and the bastard doesn’t bother to notice. Look at where I live. He doesn’t care, no one does. I want out of that pit and I’m not going to get it if I keep working for him. You open more doors for me, Mister Fontaine. I’m not stupid,” she took a drag of her cigarette. “I want more and you’re the only one who can help me get it. If it means I screw over a few fat cats in the process? Well I can’t think of a better revenge. They didn’t care about me, don’t see why I should care about them. Not like they’ve not got money to spare, is it?”   
  
At this, Fontaine smiled. A real genuine smile. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. Alright then kid, you got yourself a deal.”

* * *

  
Opal stepped out of the bathysphere, brushing her hair out of her face and checking her reflection in the little compact she carried around with her.   
  
Today was the date she’d agreed to go on with Daniel. Part of her couldn’t believe she’d said yes and the other part of her was honestly intrigued by the man. She thought he was pretty brave, coming up to her like that. Also, meant she could avoid listening to her sister gush over how amazing Steinman was.   
  
“Miss Delores?” She looked up to find Daniel standing there, smartly dressed and holding what looked like a picnic basket. He gave her a sheepish smile and stepped closer. “You look lovely, ah I mean beautiful!”   
  
Opal smiled slightly. “Thank you, Daniel. You cleaned up well yourself.”   
  
“Oh yeah,” he looked down at himself and laughed, “Miss Christie helped me.. said something about if I was taking one of her friends on a date I wasn’t doing it looking like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.”   
  
“Well, I didn’t find you too terrible yesterday,” she winked. “I did say yes after all.”   
  
“Yeah…” Daniel breathed, he still didn’t look like he quite believed all this was happening. “I ah- I brought us a picnic,” he held the basket up. “Sorry, I can’t.. I don’t have the wages yet to afford a drink at the tea gardens, so I thought… a picnic would be nice?”   
  
Opal stared at the basket with a soft little smile. She hadn’t been on a picnic since she was a little girl, getting caught up in show business meant that you didn’t always get chance to indulge in the little things. She wasn’t quite so big in Rapture just yet and in all honesty, it would be nice.   
  
“That sounds wonderful,” she hooked her arm through his and started to make for the entrance to Arcadia. “I haven’t been on a picnic in years. You sure know how to spoil a girl, Daniel. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”   
  
“Ah, no I certainly haven’t done this before,” he replied looking nervous. “I imagine Miss Christie told you about my… umm.. history,”   
  
“She may have mentioned it, yes.”   
  
“Then you know I’ve never done this before,” he looked at his feet. “Honestly I’m still surprised you said yes. Keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this is just a dream.”   
  
Opal frowned and stepped back. She looked him over and whilst yes he looked like he could do with a bit of sleep, he was by no means a bad looking man. In fact when he smiled he looked boyish, a charm he obviously didn’t know how to use. A shame really, he might of been more successful if he had.   
  
“I don’t think you and I see the same person. I see a handsome man, who may be quiet but has treated me with more respect then I have gotten in a life time.”   
  
“Costs nothing to be polite, Miss Delores,” he said softly. “My Ma raised me by herself and some of the things men and other folks used to say about her made my blood boil. Manners cost nothing.”   
  
“That they don’t, but some seem to think they’ll cost them their pride,” Opal took his arm again and they began walking once more. “You have a place plotted out for us?”  
  
“Oh, yeah- yes!”   
  
“Daniel, it’s okay. You don’t have to speak correctly to impress me.”   
  
“Right. Well, yes, Miss Delores I do. It’s by the stream and the forget me nots.”   
  
“Forget me nots? I didn’t know they grew those down here.”   
  
“They’ve just been planted,” he admitted softly. “I come here quite a bit. Nice to get away after working in Hephestus.”   
  
Opal glanced at his hands and noted they were rough and calloused. The obvious sign of hard labour and a lot manual work too. Em had the same type of hands, the only woman in the group that had rough and calloused hands.   
  
Kelly had tried to get her to moisturise them, but Em had argued against her. Saying she wanted to still be able to lift up objects and hold tools, not worrying about them slipping out of her hands because she had soft hands.   
  
They were workers hands, her’s and Daniels. Opal hadn’t got them herself and she didn’t think her sister had either, but maybe after working with Steinman, Rosa would also get workers hands?   
  
“What’s that like?” She asked. “Working in Hephestus?”   
  
“Ah, it’s… complicated,” he laughed nervously. “Honestly can be pretty boring, but sometimes you can have interesting days. Like when we were making a battery the other day and- oh, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about it. I’d bore you.”   
  
“No, no. I find it interesting,” she assured with a gentle smile. “It’s interesting to find out what other people do, I don’t know what life’s like working on a generator or wiring.”   
  
Daniel looked a little surprised, shifting his grip on the picnic basket a moment. “Well…” he started slowly before bursting into tales of Hephestus. Some of the antics the other workers got up to, the pranks people pulled. Like the time Daniel had reset Kyburz’s password to something else after hacking it or the time he’d welded his locker shut. See at heart Daniel was a bit mischevious, shy, but he enjoyed a laugh and would often play pranks. No one thought it was him though, because he was so quiet. He got away with it.   
  
Sure people walked all over him because he was quiet. They’d dismiss him and ignore him, but they’d find later they can’t get into their locker due to it being welded shut or their tools or lunch would be missing and then be in a locked box. Honestly he got away with so much and it felt so good to actually tell someone what he did. Opal even laughed at some of the stories he told.   
  
“What about you, Miss Delores?” He asked as he set up the picnic while Opal sat down on the blanket.   
  
“What about me, Daniel?”   
  
“Well… why’d you want to be a singer?” He asked setting down the food and pulling out a bottle of wine with two glasses. “Has it always been your dream? Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?”   
  
Opal blinked, looking very surprised. This wasn’t the usual thing that happened on dates for her. Guys saw a pretty face and just wanted to have a good time, but Daniel… actually wanted to know her. To know her as Opal and not as the fabulous Miss Delores.   
  
“I ah,” she rubbed her arms slightly, looking more than a little out of her depth. “I’ve always enjoyed singing. I sang in the choir when I was a girl, with Rosa. Oh, that’s my sister.”   
  
“Oh you have a sister! I didn’t know that, does she sing with you?”   
  
“She used to. Now she works in the medical pavilion under Steinman,” she frowned slightly. “I very much dislike that man. I don’t like how he looks at my sister.”   
  
“Does he… leer at her?”   
  
“No, nothing like that,” she frowned, before shaking her head and smiled at him. “Ah, look at me, bringing down the mood.”   
  
“Don’t apologise,” he said while trying to wrestle with the cork on the wine. “Honestly- _ah damn stupid thing_ \- I’d be more then happy to listen- _goddamn it, what is this thing made of_ \- I like to listen, Miss Delores.”   
  
“Opal honey, you can call me Opal.”   
  
“I- ah, okay,” he smiled sheepishly. “Opal, I’d very much like to get to know you more and.. and if you need to talk about Steinman then- _oh god!_ ”   
  
Opal winced and squeezed her eyes shut as wine splashed across her face and on her dress. She blinked her eyes open to look at Daniel who was frozen staring at her in horror. His face had gone a deathly pale and in all honesty he more resembled a corpse than an actual person right now.   
  
“Well, I usually prefer my wine in glass,” she said looking around. “Do you have a napkin, hun?”   
  
“I am- Opal- Miss Delores I am so sorry!” He babbled looking through his basket. “I didn’t mean for that- I’ll pay for the dry cleaning!”   
  
“Daniel, it was an accident,” she replied softly, reaching for him only to have several napkins shoved into her hands.   
  
“I’m so sorry!” He babbled, shrugging his jacket off. “Here, use this to hide the stains, I’ll walk you home if you’d like. You probably want to cut this short and-.”   
  
“Why on earth would I want to do that?”   
  
“Because I’ve ruined your dress!” He gestured to it. “I’m a damn klutz. I can’t believe, you’re probably gonna get cold and catch a chill and it’s all my fault. I.. oh I’m such a screw up! I’m so sorry Miss Delores.”  
  
“Daniel, Daniel, honey slow down,” Opal smiled at him. “You’re panicking.”   
  
“Of course I’m panicking! I just ruined the dress of the most beautiful girl in Rapture!”   
  
Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, Opal felt oddly flattered, she even blushed.   
  
Daniel packed everything up and the blanket. He walked her home just as he said he would, making sure to keep his coat firmly wrapped around her so no one would see the stain and once he walked her back, he insisted on paying for the dry cleaning, but she declined. It had been an accident and he seemed to be suffering enough with the panic he’d worked himself into.   
  
She didn’t hear from him, Opal imagined he was embarrassed with himself and didn’t think she’d want to see him.   
  
After two days she made her way down to Hephestus, a lot of the boys there stared at her in shock, a few she’d recognised from the Lounge. A few tried to speak to her but she waved them off, there was only one person she wanted to speak to right now.   
  
She’d had to ask for directions to where Daniel was working and once she tracked him down, it was like watching a completely different person.   
  
Yes he was still clearly upset about what had happened, but the way he moved and held himself in a place where he felt comfortable was… so different. He was confident and almost arrogant in his work, once he finished working on the current project he even smirked and damn it that didn’t knock her dead.   
  
“So, where was this man on the date?”   
  
Daniel yelped and stumbled backwards, wide eyes made wider by the goggles he had on his face and Opal laughed behind her hand. He quickly yanked them off looking at anything but her. “M- Miss Delores? What- what are you doing here?”   
  
“I figured, since you were never going to ask me again, I’d be brave,” she walked over to him. “And ask you instead.”   
  
“Ask me?”   
  
Opal smiled. “Tell me, Mister Warren,” she winked at him. “Do you dance?”  
  
“I ah, yes,” he nodded, finally looking up at her. “I do dance, Miss Delores.”   
  
“Excellent. Then tonight, meet me at Fort Frolic and we’ll go dancing.”  
  
“ _We will_?” He squeaked looking shocked.   
  
“We will, it’s a date. So you better wear your best.”   
  
He was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, eyes wide and confused. He didn’t seem to understand at all, rubbing at his eyes and trying to get his thoughts in order.   
  
“You- you want to go on a _second_ date? A second date with _me_?”   
  
“Do you see me asking anyone else?” She was only inches away from him now. The light of the core casting shadows across his face, eyes warm and hopeful as he stared down at her. He looked surprised and grateful that she was even here to begin with. “I like you, Daniel,” she smiled at him. “No one’s ever showed much interest in myself. As a person. They only see the singer,” she reached up and cupped his face with her hand. “But you wanted to know the person underneath the glitz and glamour and.. you rather swept me off my feet.”   
  
“I- _I did_?”   
  
“Yes, you did. So I’d rather like to go on a date again, with you,” she smiled impishly at him, “Just maybe we’ll leave the wine pouring to the professionals.”   
  
He laughed and closed his eyes. “I’ll work on that… when you’re not there of course.”   
  
“I’m sure you will,” she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly. “I look forward to seeing you tonight.”   
  
Daniel looked completely smitten, a little smile on his face as he nodded almost dreamlike. “You too, Miss Delores…”   
  
“Opal, honey,” she looked back at him and smiled. “Call me Opal.”

* * *

  
_Opal Delores,_   
  
_Proved me wrong:_   
  
_Daniel is a… kindly soul… quiet and understanding, ain’t nothin like any of the men I’d usual go for. I at first thought I’d just… ya know humour him for a date, truth be told I actually felt sorry for him, but… as the evening went on… he was interested in me. In me as myself not the splendid Miss Opal Delores that performs on the stage but… just Opal._   
  
_It was nice… ya know… nice to be noticed for other things not just my voice or looks… he wanted to know my mind too._   
  
_He’s sweet all right and so genuine… I… I’m going on a second date, nothin fancy like just a dance. I got a feeling… I got a feeling this might be the one I’be been waiting for. After one date I can’t imagine being with no one else but him… heh, never believed in true love or love at first sight, just a fairytale ya Ma tells ya as a girl to keep your hopes up… well, I guess Daniel proved me wrong._


	8. Waltz of the Flowers

_Ada,_   
  
_What a woman should be:_   
  
_A woman should not speak out of turn. A woman should be well kept and well dressed. A woman should behave… this is Rapture darlings! Let the past stay on the surface! It’s time to misbehave!_

* * *

  
Sander Cohen looked on in almost disappointment as people darted around, trying desperately to set the venue for the annual Rapture anniversary ball, but they were failing rather spectacularly. It was so hard to get good help now days, he was in despair as another fool tripped and almost sent one of the carefully crafted sculptures to the floor.   
  
Around the room were paintings and sculptures by Rapture’s artists, a way to celebrating how far the art had come, while new inventions also sat amongst the set in cases. A few cased depictions of Rapture also rested amongst the art and inventions. Ryan insisted on those, good to show off Rapture or something, Cohen honestly had forgotten.   
  
Yes he was on good terms with Andrew, friends even, but sometimes he did get rather boring. All this… parasites this and… the reds that, in the end it truly did get so very tiresome.   
  
He was hoping something at this ball would be.. exciting or interesting at the very least. It would be in three days time, which was why Cohen was preparing. He didn’t want to forget anything and he didn’t want to be caught off guard either.   
  
Unfortunately that meant he had to deal with other artists. He didn’t like doing that, they just didn’t have the same… vision as him. They stumbled around and drew the same tiresome thing, nothing at all was fascinating about it. He’d seen it all before getting centre stage back topside, but here in Rapture, well diversity was key.   
  
Cohen was esteemed, he now even had a club where people could watch or even become part of his art, should they so wish. He was debating making a new film, perhaps he could get in contact with Ava Tate again and ask her to star in it or maybe that Ada woman...? Then again, Cohen did find Ada a bit prideful, certainly she was vain. It all got rather boring in the end, oh my wonderful face this and my young looks that and yada yada… he lost interest.   
  
A wrong note on the piano made Sander wince and he span around to glare at Fitzpatrick, he was still practicing the music and kept getting it wrong. Over and over again, it was driving Cohen round the bend.   
  
“Fitzpatrick!”   
  
“I’m trying, Mister Cohen,” he whined. “I still got three more days, I can get it. I know I can.”   
  
“You better. Need I remind you what it should mean if you do not.”   
  
Fitzpatrick looked up at him, a fearful look of horror before nodding his head and turning back to the piano. The melody began anew and Cohen turned back to overseeing the other workers. They were still getting it wrong and he was very close to loosing his patience.   
  
The door opened to the left and Cohen was about to yell at whoever had dared to enter his domain when he saw it was his other three disciples. They’d gone to get lunch, seemed to have brought young Fitzpatrick back something also, as they made a beeline to him.   
  
The young musician seemed to visibly relax a little once the other three had arrived. Hector Rodriguez, Silas Cobbs, Martin Finnegan and of course young Kyle Fitzpatrick. His oh so loyal disciples who would do whatever he asked without question.   
  
Martin ruffled Kyle’s hair a little, acting a bit like a big brother for the young man, while Silas was without a doubt a bully and Hector simply drank and drank. Cohen didn’t think the man went a day dry.   
  
  
“Ah, my disciples,” Cohen crooned and they all looked up at him, a slight nervousness to them all. He didn’t have the faintest idea as to why. “Where have you all been?” He gushed. “I’ve just been warn ragged looking after these _louts_ and Kyle here doesn’t know the _right_ key from the _wrong_ one.”   
  
Kyle looked down at his lap, but Martin was quick to pat him on the back. “Hey, we’re all a little stressed, Mister Cohen. I’m sure, Kyle will have it ready when it needs to be, won’t ya?”   
  
“Y-Yes! Yes, I will Mister Cohen! I promise.”   
  
“Let us hope, young Fitzpatrick, that is a promise you can keep,” he directed his attention to Martin next. “Now, my famed ice man, do you have the sculptures ready yet?”   
  
Martin blinked. “Mister Cohen the parties in three days… if I start carving now they’ll melt-.”   
  
“Haven’t you heard of ice boxes? Figure it out, I did not take you under my wing because you were in capable of doing what you’re instructed. There shall be no failures on my canvas!”

* * *

  
“Are you sure about this, Mister Ryan?”   
  
“Of course, Bill, it’s one of the main things I wish to do whenever a new business opens. Take a look myself and talk to owner. I’ve spoken to Fontaine before, I must say I’m quite impressed.”   
  
Bill nodded as he followed behind Ryan.   
  
They were walking through the newly opened Fontaine’s Department Store and it was impressive, Ryan would admit that. The outer building showcased an image of Poseidon with his two seahorses who pulled his chariots. Inside, the building was alive and thriving with heavy foot traffic as people darted back and forth, entering shops, cafes and bars. There wasn’t a single spot in the place that didn’t have a person, shop assistant or shopper, the place was packed.   
  
Ryan had never seen so many people in one place before, but the Department Store had been advertised for three months now and it was finally open. It made sense that shoppers would be excited to explore a new area of Rapture.   
  
“Sure looks real shiny, Mister Ryan,” Bill mumbled looking around. “The Misses was thinkin’ of heading down here today, she doesn’t mind the crowds too much.”   
  
“Hm, well hopefully she will find what she’s looking for.”   
  
“Oh I’m sure she will, Mister Ryan.”   
  
Bill and Ryan turned to see Fontaine with his body guard Reggie, that Michaels woman and Lokken, though she looked decidedly less happy to be there than the others did.   
  
“Mister Fontaine,” Ryan replied cooly. “I see business is doing well. The Fisheries not to your standards anymore?”   
  
“We all gotta branch out to make it big in this town, Mister Ryan,” Fontaine replied with a smile. “No harm in a little business growth,” he turned to Em and nodded. “You can leave now, Ms Lokken. Let’s not forget our agreement.”   
  
“Of course not, Mister Fontaine,” she replied curtly, walking past Ryan and nodding to him, “Mister Ryan,” she smiled at Bill. “I’ll see you at the Tavern, Bill.”   
  
“Right you are, Ms Em. Look forward to it,” he smiled at her.   
  
“I see you’re getting Ms Lokken to do more work for you,” Ryan said sharply, narrowing his eyes little. He failed to see what Fontaine could possibly want with an electrical engineer.   
  
Fontaine shrugged a little. “She does good work, one of the subs was damaged again and since she fixed the last one so well, it made sense to hire her again,” he smirked slightly at Ryan as he pulled out a cigar. “Afraid I’ll be stealing your workers, Mister Ryan?”   
  
“I don’t own her, Fontaine. Ms Lokken is free to work for whoever she wishes, so long as she doesn’t breech her Ryan Industries contract.”   
  
“Naturally,” he turned to Limey and leaned a little closer. “You go and sort that thing out, ‘kay Limes?”   
  
“Yes, yes,” she nodded along, straightening out her clothes before walking towards the exit of the Department store, nodding to Bill and Ryan as she passed. “Gentlemen.”   
  
“Ma’am,” Bill nodded politely back to her as she went past, walking sharply and quickly towards the exit.   
  
Then it was just Fontaine and Ryan with their appointed most trusted workers. It was silent for a moment, Ryan observed how relaxed and calm Fontaine looked. Like he was very much in his element and that damn smirk was grating a little on Ryan’s nerve. He didn’t look fazed that Ryan was there at all, if anything, he looked more like expected Ryan to show up and make an appearance.   
  
The other times Ryan had entered businesses, the owners had been shocked and panicked, but Fontaine was relaxed and confident. No hint of surprise on his face at all.   
  
“You seem to be settling in, Fontaine, not many of Rapture’s citizens have been able to cultivate as big of a market as you or I have. I must say I’m impressed.”   
  
“Some of us just need a little push, Mister Ryan,” he replied, lighting the cigar. “We can’t all be successful businessmen, wouldn’t be anyone to employe if we were, right?”   
  
“Indeed, but the great chain of industry allows us all a chance to strive if we should so wish it. Those who are not successful now may very well become successful later. That is how it should be. There is no class system, in Rapture, we are all equal here.”   
  
Fontaine smiled at that, toying with his cigar, he even laughed softly. A hint of mockery behind it, before he looked up at Ryan and said. “You haven’t been down to Paupers Drop then have you? There’s certainly a class system, Mister Ryan.”   
  
“They have their chance to find more work. The more businesses open up, the bigger the industries, the more workers are required. They’ll find work soon, of that I have no doubt. As for their living arrangements, well I have heard the Sinclair Deluxe is reasonable and good housing.”   
  
“Of course. They just… need a little time,” Fontaine took a drag of his cigar, blowing the smoke up to the ceiling. “A little push in the right direction, speakin’ of,” he walked towards Ryan, but still maintained a distance from him. “I’ve been hearing rumours of some work going on, South side of Rapture? Somethin’ to do with Sinclair? You hear anything ‘bout that?”   
  
“And _why_ would that concern you?”   
  
“Meant no offence, Mister Ryan. Just want to get a lay of the land out there. Figure out the competition.”   
  
“Mister Sinclair’s business is his own and I play no part in it,” he narrowed his eyes. “If you’re having an issue, I suggest you sort it out yourself.”   
  
“Yous mistakin’ me for asking for charity,” he took another drag of his cigar. “I ain’t. Just like to know about the competition. As I’m sure you can agree, that’s why _you’re_ here isn’t it? Getting a look at the competition?”   
  
Ryan smiled tightly. “I wish you a successful business, Mister Fontaine. Your current business ventures are simple proof that the great chain is moving and that Rapture has succeeded,” He turned on his heel. “I have to go now, but Fontaine… you wouldn’t happen to of heard anything about this.. smuggling business?”   
  
“No, Mister Ryan,” Fontaine replied, looking down at his cigar. “Can’t say I have. We’re a fishing business and the only thing a fisherman should be dealing in is fish, isn’t that right?” He repeated the words Ryan had said that day on the dock, when he and Fontaine had first spoken to each other face to face. Fontaine’s eyes flickered back to Ryan and he cracked a grin. “And we have no problem identifying fish. There’s the scales and the smell, remember? Though, if I do see anything, I’ll be sure to let your man, Sullivan isn’t it? Well, I’ll be sure to let him know, if I see anythin’, won’t we Reggie?”  
  
“Sure will, Mister Fontaine,” the bruiser replied, smiling at broadly. “We’ll keep our eye out, Mister Ryan.”   
  
“Very good. This is for Rapture’s safety, after all,” Ryan reminded them, turning and walking towards the exit with Bill in tow.   
  
He wanted to get out of the Department store as quick as possible, there was more work to be done, especially since it would seem Fontaine was going to be a bigger rival than Ryan originally imagined. Work would have to be done, a lot of work. Perhaps his own department store? He could maybe push more money into the scientific community or visit Cohen and plan some sort of business deal with the artistic side of Rapture. There were a lot of choices and Cohen was someone who would listen to Ryan, they were friends after all.   
  
“I never did get that invite, Mister Ryan,” Fontaine spoke up. “The one to join the council.”  
  
“We’ve been rather busy, Fontaine and as I stated before, the council is dreadfully boring. We have no sway over the city or its citizens,” he turned back and offered a smile that could cut glass. “But as I said before, I’ll put your suggestion to the rest of the council.”   
  
Ryan didn’t wait for Fontaine to reply, he turned and began walking away, rather briskly and Bill was quick to follow him and keep up.   
  
The Brit kept looking back and eyeing Fontaine who didn’t seem all too happy to be brushed off like that. He was talking to Reggie now, didn’t look happy one bit.   
  
“We aren’t really going to let Fontaine onto the council, are we Guv’?”  
  
“Of course not,” Ryan replied standing at the edge of the bathysphere port. “No, certainly not while he is under investigation for smuggling.”   
  
“It’s gotta be him, Mister Ryan. There’s no one else it could be.”   
  
“There are plenty of fishing ventures in Rapture, not just Fontaine’s,” he straightened out his suit. “We shall not take action until we have confirmation that it is in fact Fontaine smuggling in these goods.” Bill looked up at Ryan with a frown.   
  
“And when we do have evidence, Guv’?”   
  
“We’ll handle it as the citizens of Rapture expect us to,” Andrew Ryan paused a moment and let a smile flicker onto his face. “And once we do, well.. Persephone shall be open by that point and I’m sure Mister Fontaine will feel quite at home there. He’ll also then be Augustus Sinclair’s problem and we shall not have to worry about Mister Fontaine bothering us again.”   
  
The bathysphere arrived and once it was securely in place, Bill and Ryan entered it. Closing the door and pulling the lever so the radio controlled sphere would take them towards the rest of Rapture.   
  
As the sphere floated towards the rest of the city, Bill decided to broach a subject he knew Mister Ryan didn’t want to discuss, but it was as issue that needed to be addressed. Truth was, Fontaine had been right about one thing, Pauper’s Drop was almost overrun.   
  
There were so many people living in squalor and poverty, not enough jobs to go round for everyone and people were starting to loose moral, they were getting restless. The lower class citizens were starting to crack and that would be a weakness to Rapture. People couldn’t afford to eat or feed their children and the number of orphans across the city had begun to increase drastically.   
  
“I hate to say it, Mister Ryan,” Bill stated carefully. “But, Fontaine was right about one thing. Pauper’s Drop,” Ryan visibly frowned at the mere mention of the place. “It’s overrun,” he continued. “People are… gettin’ desperate, I just think we should stop it before-.”   
  
“I will not consider charity, Bill,” he said sharply. “But, I have been considering ways to… deal with such situation, as I told Fontaine, I was hoping these workers would find jobs here.”   
  
“They’re builders and craftsmen, Mister Ryan,” Bill shrugged. “They haven’t got much else to build, the city’s finished.”   
  
“Yes, it’s finished, but it still needs maintenance,”   
  
“Right you are, Mister Ryan, but we can’t send any poor sod out there. That water’s unforgiving, is hard enough trying to keep everything functioning from the inside. The ocean doesn’t stop, it’s beating down on us at every moment.”   
  
Ryan looked down at Bill and offered a smile, which he hoped would comfort the other some. “I’m pleased to see you take your work so seriously, Bill, but you shouldn’t worry. Doctor Suchong and I are working on a project that will enable our men to walk out into the ocean without any bother.”   
  
Bill frowned slightly. “Suchong? That scientist fellow?”   
  
“Yes, he’s one of the best in his field. He’s currently working on a little side project I’m funding. Soon our men will be able to venture out into the ocean and have no fear of the temperature or roughness of the sea itself,” he smiled as he remembered a few of the most recent test subjects, the ones that hadn’t been a total failure of course. “We’ve had people volunteering for the trials to earn a little money. All perfectly safe, I assure you and all participants are very much sound of mind.”   
  
“What about Pauper’s Drop?” Bill asked. “I’ve been down there, myself Guv’, it ain’t a pretty sight and the Sinclair Deluxe isn’t-.”   
  
“I’m having a meeting with Doctor Sofia Lamb tomorrow. She’s the foremost practitioner in her field,” he cut Bill off. “Doctor Lamb has offered her services to quell the doubts that may be brewing in Pauper’s Drop. I’ve been aware of the difficulty for a while, Bill and have been looking into solutions, it’s simply taken me a while to find it.”  
  
“And… this Doctor Lamb will solve the problem?”  
  
“She will or she better. I can’t afford to waste any more time into fruitless endeavours. If the people of Pauper’s Drop cannot find work then clearly they need to start their own business. They just need to show a little _initiative_.”

* * *

  
“You wanna run that by me again?”   
  
“I don’t think I need to repeat myself, Frank,” Sinclair replied, calmly taking a drag from his cigarette, ignoring the fairly miffed expression Fontaine was directing at him. “You and I both know Ms Lokken is an exceptional worker and I’m in need of her services with my own little buildin’ project. She’s done yours, so I’ve heard and that means she’s up for grabs.”   
  
“Ms Lokken has signed another contract with me, Sinclair,” he stated calmly, fist clenched on the desk. “So no, she ain’t up for grabs. You’ve already got two of Ryan’s best workin’ on that project of yours or so I’ve heard. Hardly need a third, a little greedy don’t you think?”   
  
“My, my… you got her workin’ on a third project?” The southern gentlemen looked amused. “Almost makes it seem like you like her.”   
  
“ ‘Bout as much as I like you. She’s useful, too useful to give over to you.”   
  
“Oh, but that’s simply not very sporting of you, Frank,” he flicked some ash off and into the tray. “I’m certain the woman should be able to choose for herself.”   
  
Frank laughed, leaning back in his chair looking relaxed now. Like he knew something Sinclair didn’t, which wouldn’t be the first time. Fontaine had more feelers out there in the big city than what Sinclair did, for the moment of course. He’d be getting more people in time, once Sinclair Solutions was off the ground and running along side Fontaine and Ryan.   
  
“C’mon now Augustus… you honestly think the woman who curses your name every time she can’t sleep in that crappy hotel of yours, is gonna jump at the chance to work for you?” He sniggered slightly. “Cause I sure as hell don’t.”   
  
“Well… for the right price, you can get anyone to do anything.”   
  
“Not that dame. A real spitfire that one,” Fontaine leaned back recalling the deal he’d made with Em, but that had only been about the dance and this was certainly not that. She also didn’t know about this meeting and what she didn’t know, she didn’t need to know. He’d be in no rush to tell her and besides, he paid better than Sinclair would and if he didn’t… well, he’d simply remind her of their agreement.   
  
“Oh she’s a spitfire alright,” Sinclair agreed. “You should see her when she comes in to complain, leaves in a hurricane every damn time, a wild card…” he took a drag of his cigarette, looking thoughtful. Fontaine would wager he was trying to come up with another angle. “A wild card for sure, one you gotta be careful of, if you find her in your deck. Which is why I’m awful curious, Chief, as to why you’d want to keep someone like that around?”   
  
“As I said, she’s good at her work, she doesn’t ask questions,” he smirked slightly as he ticked the last reason off. “And having her working for me sure as hell pisses off Ryan.”   
  
“You really are gunning to whined the old man up, aren’t you?”   
  
“Gotta have some fun in this life, Augustus.”   
  
“On that we can agree,” Sinclair put his cigarette out in the ashtray. “So I hope we can come up with an agreement regarding our favourite Norwegian Engineer.”   
  
Fontaine didn’t have time for this, he had that meeting with Suchong and Tenenbaum to get to at his Penthouse and he was hoping to make it in time so he could have his dinner. Dealing with Sinclair, of all people, was not how he wanted to spend his evening. Making a deal that was going to make him the kind of scratch that would have Ryan looking like he was running a paper route, was definitely a better way to waste his time.   
  
Sinclair was not an easy man to dissuade, however, he would fight tooth claw and nail, in his own refined way, to get what he wanted. Frank knew this, because he was the same. A little more rough around the edges than Sinclair was, but they operated much the same way. A little too similar for Frank’s liking.   
  
He knew a fellow grifter when he saw one and sure, Sinclair might use fancier language then he did, but a grifter was a grifter. Frank could spot one a mile away, always good to keep an eye on competition after all. That’s all Sinclair was, competition and maybe if he played it right a business parter for future investments. He knew Augustus was big in the science side of Rapture, wouldn’t hurt to get involved with him if this deal he’d make with Suchong and Tenenbaum played out well.   
  
Still, that didn’t mean he was all too happy with the idea of Sinclair stealing one of his best workers.   
  
“We can,” Fontaine replied calmly, remarkably more calm than he felt. “The agreement is you don’t touch her and we’ll forget this conversation ever happened. Sound good?”   
  
“No, can’t say it really does, Chief,” all humour had, for once, dropped out of Sinclair’s voice.   
  
_Great,_ Frank thought, _He’s going for hardcore business mode. Jesus Christ, don’t he know when to quit?_   
  
“I was sorely hoping we could come to a better agreement than that, Frank,” he said, face and voice devoid of any emotion, maybe a hint of annoyance. “Because the way I see it, that agreement you’re proposing doesn’t exactly do any favours for me.”   
  
“And that concerns me, how?” He raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Let’s just say, Mister Ryan might be interested in finding out just what you’re doing with those submarines or yours.”   
  
“Ohh, _Augustus_ , gotta admit I didn’t see that coming from you,” Fontaine replied, looking almost amused before it dropped completely off his face. “Didn’t think you’d sink so low. Ruining a fellow grifter’s business like that.”   
  
“Grifter? I’m a businessman, Fontaine, nothing more.”   
  
Frank was remarkably impressed he was able to say it with a straight face.   
  
“Yeah? Not a legitimate one though, are ya’?”   
  
“Is there any such thing as a legitimate businessman?” Augustus mused. “I can’t say I’ve ever come across one. C’mon now, son, let’s not make things difficult for either of us, because you’re sure right… it would be a shame to ruin this… little business enterprise you’re building up.”   
  
Frank started to laugh at that, shaking his head and laughing at the over the top threat. God it was just so damn amusing, this whole scenario was, but Sinclair didn’t really seem to get the joke, if the raised eyebrow and annoyed look was anything to go by.   
  
Fontaine waved him off, trying to calm himself down. “Sorry, just imagining the conversation you’d have with Ryan while tryna’ explain just why you have boxes of contraband cigarettes in your office.”   
  
Sinclair didn’t even blink. “Oh, that damn rascal must of put them there, Mister Ryan. No? What about, I was collectin’ them for evidence, Mister Ryan. That one work better?”   
  
He snorted, shaking his head. “You expect Ryan to believe _that_?”   
  
“I expect Ryan to believe whatever I tell him, else I’m not very good at my job, am I chief?”   
  
Frank smirked before looking at his watch, a grimace stretching across his face as he noted the time. It was getting close to the time he was meant to be meeting with Suchong and Tenenbaum. He had to cut this short now. Couldn’t afford to waste anymore time entertaining Sinclair.   
  
“As fun as this was,” Frank said, getting up and buttoning up his coat. “I have a business meeting to attend to, you’ve ran out of time, Sinclair.”  
  
“Then maybe we’ll continue this tomorrow?” The bright and cheerful Sinclair was back in an instant. It was honestly unsettling to be on the receiving end of that change. Frank knew he did it himself, but he was starting to see why it shook people up so much. “I think we can come to some sort of agreement, right Chief?”   
  
“I told you what that was. You don’t get Lokken.”   
  
“As I said, shouldn’t that be up to the lady to decide?”  
  
“Not if her employer doesn’t agree to it,” Frank took a step closer. “Think about it, Augustus, who do you think she’s goin’ ta be more scared of? _You_ or _me_?”

* * *

  
_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_Loyalties:_   
  
_It has been brought to my attention that one of my workers in Hephestus is now working for Fontaine also. I have no problem with this, it simply proves that the great chain is moving along nicely._   
  
_They’re one of Diane’s friends, Emilie Lokken. Her work is second to none, Bill has often spoke very highly of her._   
  
_As I said, it is only proof that the great chain of industry is pulling us all forward and proves that my young rival is quite the forward thinker… but he shall not be having Ms Lokken full time._   
  
_Mister Fontaine is proving to be an excellent rival… but he shan’t be aloud to take control of the entire market. It might be time to have a word with Miss Lokken and see where her loyalties lie._


	9. When you're down and out

_Camael Abigail_   
  
_Someone to talk to:_   
  
_I love dancing, performing on the stage is everything to me. The lights, the sounds, the dresses! Oh everything! But it’s not half stressful, feel like my blood pressure has gone up since being here._   
_Well I was on my way to see Em down at Sinclair Deluxe and I see these adverts for a… Doctor Lamb… she’s a psychiatrist apparently, Em doesn’t trust her but Em doesn’t trust most people… Well I am stressed… and it’ll be nice to just talk to someone you know? Just to be heard for once. Doesn’t everyone deserve that?_

* * *

  
“What do you make of it?”  
  
“I don’t know… what am I meant to make of it?”  
  
“Sounds like… charity. How’d you reckon she got that past Ryan?”  
  
Daniel shrugged a little. “Who knows. You… think you might go?”  
  
Em considered this, glancing at him before looking back at their current topic.  
  
Scattered throughout the main hall of the Sinclair Deluxe were advertisements for this… Doctor Sofia Lamb. It seemed odd, she was talking about counselling for the people of Paupers Drop. Free too, which was almost unheard of in Rapture. Scratch that, completely unheard of.  
  
Emilie didn’t like her look. The eyes… the main focus of the poster seemed to stare into your very soul. Judging almost. They also seemed out of place in the Sinclair Deluxe, she was surprised Sinclair had even allowed these posters to be put up in his building. He wasn’t exactly a man who was known to be charitable, the very building they were standing in was evidence of that.  
  
Still, this Doctor Lamb seemed to be attracting a bit of attention, people all around them were muttering about going, just to be able to talk to someone. She could understand that, she supposed, but she wasn’t about to go talking to a total stranger about her issues. Besides, most of her issues she dealt with by herself. Maybe drinking wasn’t the best method, but it certainly did wonders for her.  
  
“No,” Em said finally. “I don’t think I will be. What’s the point? Like talking to someone is going to change anything? I still live in Pauper’s Drop.”  
  
“I don’t know… maybe it could be nice to talk to someone.”  
  
“You have friends for that. Me, Kyburz and now Opal, speaking of,” she grinned at him and Daniel blushed. “How are things going?”  
  
“Oh.. ya know..” He laughed shakily. “Great actually, they’re going… really, really great. I sometimes can’t believe it happened. Keep meaning to pinch myself, ya know?” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Like this is some sort of dream.”  
  
“Good things come to those who wait, Daniel,” Em soothed with a smile of her own. “You waited and look what happened. Honestly, I’m really happy for you both.”  
  
“We’re thinking of moving in together, ya know?” He looked very sheepish at that. “Everything’s been going so well. Could you imagine it?”  
  
Em patted him on the back. “Smart and beautiful babes I’m sure.”  
  
“Wha- no, no, not yet!” He panicked a little. “I.. Jesus I haven’t even proposed yet, I-“  
  
“Hold up,” she held a hand up and looked back at him. “Proposed? You’re thinking of… oh my god! Daniel!”  
  
“Is it too soon?”  
  
“You’re… asking the wrong person,” she laughed looking back at the poster. “Maybe you should ask Doctor Lamb.”  
  
Daniel rolled his eyes, looking both amused and exasperated. “You’re a menace, Ms Em. Really you are.”  
  
“And don’t you forget it.”  
  
They turned to leave, but stopped in their tracks at the sight of Augustus Sinclair, who was walking towards them with a smile on his face. He didn’t draw his attention away, clearly they were who he was after, or maybe it was Daniel, he was still working on that secret project after all.  
  
“Guess I caught you just in time.”  
  
“I’ll get going,” Em muttered, gently patting Daniel’s shoulder in comfort, but Sinclair shook his head.  
  
“No, it’s actually you I’m here to talk to, Ms Lokken,” he smiled. “I have some business I’d like to discuss with you.”  
  
“Yeah? Why don’t you fix that damn elevator back there,” she hooked a thumb in the direction of the elevator in question. “And maybe then, I’ll consider talking.”  
  
“Always were a tough one, Frank was right about you,” he mused.  
  
Around them, people were staring in shock and awe. It was the first time anyone had ever really stood up to Sinclair. Too scared to loose their homes, if you could call the Sinclair Deluxe a home.  
  
Still, it was a roof over their heads, so naturally people were scared of loosing it. Even if it leaked and the heating didn’t always come on or sometimes it did just in the middle of the night with a loud bang. Sure to wake the dead the noise was so loud.  
  
Simply put, no one trusted Sinclair, certainly didn’t trust him enough to speak their mind or complain. Em did, she wasn’t a person to have anyone hold anything over her, the closest was Fontaine and he held a very valuable thing over her head. That being her life.  
  
Sinclair only held the roof she resided under and it wasn’t like Rapture didn’t have other poor places she could settle in to.  
  
“Didn’t know you spoke much with Fontaine,” she replied calmly. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”  
  
“Does he need to?” Sinclair smiled, it was a smile she knew. The snake oil salesmen, the type of smile that hinted he was going to get what he wanted.  
  
“What do you want?” Em finally asked, resting her hands on her hips, studying him closely for any tells. Not much point she knew, but Sinclair wasn’t dealing with two drunk idiots this time, so she had a feeling he’d be extra cautious or extra fancy with his words.  
  
It was how men like him got you to work for them. They would spiel a bunch of words at you and you’d get so lost in the quantity you didn’t really listen to the important parts. The parts that would hint that it was a bad deal.  
  
“Perhaps we could talk about this in a more private setting,” Sinclair looked around him at the staring faces. “We seem to of attracted some attention, Ms Lokken. I trust you and I would want to keep this between ourselves?”  
  
“And by we you mean, just you,” she huffed and considered it a moment before shrugging. “Fine, but you’re going to have to explain to Ryan just why I’m late. We can’t all run by our own time scale, Mister Sinclair.”  
  
“I’ve already spoken to Ryan,” Sinclair replied. “It’s best to think ahead, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
This didn’t settle her. He’d planned this right to the end hadn’t he? Dot the i’s and cross the t’s, as it where and Em felt pretty nervous about that.  
  
Fontaine hadn’t been so bad because most of what he’d done so far hadn’t strictly been planned, it been more in the moment. She didn’t doubt for a second, if he actually planned something she wouldn’t be able to keep up and fall flat in the mud. So, Sinclair being ready and preempting her every move, certainly did nothing to ease her nerves.  
  
She weighed up the pros and cons to saying yes, in her head. On the one hand, Fontaine might flip but on the other hand… did she honestly care?  
  
No, no she did not.  
  
“Alright, Mister Sinclair…” she trailed off uncertainly, turning to Daniel and offering a smile. “I’ll catch you up. If Kyburz worries, let him know I’m fine, would you?”  
  
“Yeah, sure Ms Em,” Daniel nodded and quickly darted off, keeping his head down as he passed Sinclair.  
  
Speaking of the Southern bastard, that damn smirk hadn’t left his face. He almost looked like he thought he’d won.  
  
“I’d get rid of that smirk, Sinclair,” she snapped. “I haven’t said yes to your proposal yet.”  
  
“Well in that case, we shouldn’t waste any more time,” he stood aside and gestured to the exit of the Sinclair Deluxe. “Shall we, Ms Em? I’d be more than happy to squire ya.”  
  
“You’ll do no such thing,” she harped back at him, pushing past him towards the exit.  
  
She didn’t like this, she didn’t like it one bit. She should’ve just declined as quick as possible, but she’d been curious and taken the bite like a right idiot. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to dealing Sinclair, she was, she’d complained to him enough times about the elevator not working after all, but he never seemed to take her quite too seriously.  
  
It didn’t explain why he wanted her though, what was so special about her? When did she suddenly become Ms popular? She wasn’t so sure she liked it at all and then she’d heard Fontaine muttering to Limey about that Suchong and Tenenbaum and she was pretty certain she heard her own name dropped into the conversation, but she couldn’t be sure.  
  
Walking up the steps to Sinclair’s office, Kelly sat at her desk as usual, going over notes and tapping away at her typewriter. She looked surprised to see Em, eyebrow raised and almost looking a little crestfallen.  
  
“What are you complaining about this time?”  
  
“Who says I’m complaining?”  
  
“You only ever come here to complain and give me more paper work.”  
  
“Well I’d hate for you to get bored, Kells.”  
  
“No one is ever that bored they’d wish for more paperwork,” she replied sternly. “So… why are you here? Elevator? Heating?”  
  
“None of those, Kelly,” Sinclair spoke up, entering behind Em, walking up to the door to his office. “She’s actually here to talk business.”  
  
Kelly looked skeptical, glancing at Em and raising her eyebrow again for confirmation.  
  
Em shrugged a little before following Sinclair inside, shutting the door behind her while Sinclair took a seat behind his desk. He took out a cigarette and lit it, Em noted the smell of the cigarette was not a Rapture one, but she didn’t make any comment about it. She planned on walking out of here after all, though she wasn’t too sure Sinclair would kill her.  
  
He’d probably more blackmail her.  
  
“So?” Em prompted, leaning on the chair opposite Sinclair’s own. “What do you need me for? I’m not spilling any secrets if that’s what you’re after.”  
  
“Nothin’ so sinister, Ms Em,” Sinclair smiled, taking a drag of the cigarette. “Would you care for one?”  
  
“Got my own, thanks.”  
  
They fell into silence and Em could almost see the wheels turning in Sinclair’s head. He was trying to figure out just what she meant by that.  
  
He obviously wasn’t too worried about her ratting him out to Ryan for having contraband or he didn’t think she’d be able to tell the difference between a Rapture smoke and one that was clearly from topside. For once, Sinclair had sadly not taken into account her crutch on her own vices and smoking certainly was one. She would recognise a real smoke from a Rapture one at any time. She was pretty damn certain near enough everyone was smoking the real things except for those close to Ryan.  
  
Sinclair seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, because he offered her a smile, this one feeling oddly more alarming than the last.  
  
“Oh I see,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Frank got you in deep already has he?”  
  
“Define, deep,” she replied cooly.  
  
“Now where would the fun in that be?” He opened his desk draw and took some blue prints out, laying them on the desk for her to see. “Now, I’m sure you’ve been mighty curious about the little side project I’ve had your two colleagues workin’ on these past few months.”  
  
So that’s what this was about. The secret project on the south side of Rapture, the building so carefully hidden no one really knew it was there. A building that for some reason scared Kyburz to the point where the Aussie wouldn’t talk about it at all.  
  
“I might have heard a few passing comments,” she said carefully. She didn’t want to drop Daniel or Kyburz in it. “Not much, mind you. Lips sealed and all that, you must be paying them awful well.”  
  
“I pay good money for good work, Ms Em, though I assume our mutual friend, Fontaine, has sold you that line before now. No, I think I might appeal to your curiosity,” he looked smug again. “Being that, I think you’ll say yes to my proposal.”  
  
“And yet, I don’t know what this proposal is.”  
  
“I want to hire you, Ms Em. You do good work, why I’ve seen the Department Store and that Sub you worked on. You’ve got real talent, talent like that can help a man get far in this town.”  
  
Ah, so that’s what this was. He wanted her to help on his secret project, but the fact he was coming to her directly, obviously he didn’t want anyone else knowing about it. More importantly, he probably didn’t want Fontaine knowing about it.  
  
“Say I’m interested,” she leaned back, crossing her arms. “What’s in it for me? I already have a good deal with Fontaine going, I don’t really want to ruin that. As much as I despise the man, he pays well. Well enough that I might be able to move out of your crappy apartment complex.”  
  
“You know how to break a man’s heart, Ms Em.”  
  
“Let’s not kid ourselves, Augustus, you don’t have one of those.”  
  
“A _liability_ , Ms Em,” he smiled at her. “I don’t have a liability. So… if, we imagine you are interested, I might be able to consider you joint heading the project with Kyburz. What would you say to that?”  
  
She wasn’t too sure. The next job for Fontaine was a simple one, give him a better hiding place on the sub and that wouldn’t be too hard and it wouldn’t take too long either. She’d be free again for extra work, but then again she was in discussion with him about working part time for him.  
  
Sinclair was right about one thing though, she was curious about the south side project, since Kyburz or Daniel wouldn’t talk about it. She didn’t understand what was so scary about a building and then all this talk about it being a prison. She’d heard whispers about experiments, seen proof of experiments in Paupers Drop with Cecil. Rapture was changing, getting more and more complicated by the second.  
  
Ryan and Fontaine where the ones to beat, they were the head of the market, both trying to get a head of the other person and control the market completely. Sinclair, she deducted, was in the middle. Bouncing between the two, hell he was probably playing the two against each other and picking up the spoils afterwards. He was a crafty bastard like that and she could almost admire him, if he wasn’t trying to push her into a three way, consisting of himself, Ryan and Fontaine.  
  
That was not a position she was sure she wanted to be in, as all three of those men where in it to win it. Well, Ryan and Fontaine certainly where, Sinclair was the one picking up anything they’d miss. Let the two big boys rough each other up and pick up the pieces afterwards, taking advantage of those left in the fallout.  
  
It was dirty, it was underhanded, it was the Rapture way. Sure Ryan could talk and talk about the great chain but good business needed good businessmen and Sinclair was a _good_ businessman. He could certainly read people well, that was for sure, because he was right. She was curious, she did want to know, even if knowing the answer wasn’t good for her well being.  
  
Kelly would often say she had self destructive tendencies.  
  
“I would say… would it piss off Fontaine if I did this for you in my spare time?”  
  
“I would think it would, Ms Em.”  
  
“Then count me in. More power to the people who piss off Fontaine and Ryan, I say.”  
  
Em was starting to think she was right.

* * *

  
“What the hell do you mean, Sinclair was talking to her?!”  
  
“I… mean Sinclair was talking to her?” Daniel blinked looking terribly uncertain of what to do. “I don’t know how else you want me to say it, Kyburz?”  
  
Kyburz rubbed at his eyes in annoyance, glaring over the top of his hand at Daniel, who looked the best he’d ever seen him.  
  
It seemed succeeding in dating had changed him. Gone was the rough and ragged looking man, who looked like a small gust of wind would send him keeling over. Now there was a healthy looking brunette with sparkling blue eyes that seemed so incredibly sharp and intelligent it was scary. Kyburz had to wonder how much alcohol Daniel used to drink to hide that intelligence, it was almost blinding him with how intense it was.  
  
“Why was he talking to her?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Daniel shrugged. “Said something about a business venture. I’m not sure, she told me to go, so I went.”  
  
“Why did you go.”  
  
“Ya kidding right? You don’t argue with Ms Em,” he snapped back. “Not unless you want to get hit by a wrench!”  
  
“She wouldn’t’ hit you, ya bloody fool!”  
  
They were attracting an audience, workers were staring at them, especially at Kyburz since he usually was the more level headed one out of the two of them. He himself didn’t fly off the handle like this, he never did. He kept his head down and moved on, ordering people around to keep Hephestus working. Yelling never solved any problems, but right now he couldn’t help himself.  
  
He was angry, damn right furious. Ever since Fontaine had entered the picture, Kyburz felt like Em, Daniel and himself had been pulled in all directions. It started with Em, then it was Kyburz and Daniel working for Sinclair and now the bastard wanted to pull Em into it too. For what purpose? They didn’t need her there, they could do it themselves.  
  
It wasn’t because he didn’t think Em was capable, far from it, just felt like Sinclair was almost pushing for an argument. Em would be stuck in the middle of that, since Kyburz doubted Fontaine would be all too happy about his electrical engineer jumping ship to work for Sinclair.  
  
“You should’ve stayed with her.”  
  
“Ms Em is tough,” Daniel reminded him calmly. “She can handle Ryan and Fontaine, certain she can handle Sinclair. Better than either of us could.”  
  
“I hate the fact you don’t drink anymore. You’re damn perceptive when you want to be.”  
  
Daniel smiled at him. “I’ve always been perceptive, Kyburz, I just didn’t let you know I was.”  
  
Kyburz wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. It almost gave off a sinister image to Daniel, like there was more to him than meets the eye.  
  
He shrugged it off as him just being stupid, but then he started to wonder had he ever really known Daniel? Actually known him? He’d always been drunk, too drunk some days, but now he was sober and incredibly switched on. He was starting to see why Daniel had been called down to Rapture in the first place, he could see why Ryan had liked the man and chosen him to come down.  
  
Then came the next big, important question. Could Kyburz still trust him? If Daniel hadn’t been switched on before, when he spoke to him about anything and everything, what would he be like now? Would he use it against him? Didn’t seem like something Daniel would do, but you couldn’t be too careful. Especially in Rapture. Everyone was in it for themselves, well Kyburz would be dammed if he got caught off guard.  
  
He must of taken a long time to answer, because Daniel looked at him almost concerned, nudging him slightly with his elbow.  
  
“Hey, Kyburz? You still alive in there?”  
  
“What you done? You broken the Aussie?” Pablo shouted from somewhere in the distance… Kyburz wasn’t entirely sure where.  
  
“I don’t know! Hey, Kyburz? You okay?” He shook his shoulder. “C’mon buddy, ya scaring me here.”  
  
“Can I still trust you?”  
  
Daniel looked relived that he’d spoken, but that quickly changed to looking concerned and confused at Kyburz’s question.  
  
“The hell? Course you can, probably more than ever now, since I’m not swimming in alcohol.”  
  
“You and I both know how tricky Sinclair is.”  
  
“Which is why I think Ms Em, will be fine,” Daniel assured. “She’s not stupid enough to get involved with him.”

* * *

  
“I can’t believe you were that _stupid_. Is this- do you just like playing roulette with your life and cheer when you dodge a bullet?”  
  
Em rolled her eyes as Kelly continued to go on at her. She was not impressed that Em had taken up Sinclair’s deal while still working for Ryan and Fontaine. It was nuts, mad in her opinion. Which she was expressing right now and quite enthusiastically as they walked through High Street heading to some dress shops.  
  
“I don’t see why you’re bothered. You work for him too.”  
  
“Yes, just him and only him. You don’t see me swanning off to help out every millionaire that so much as waves a bit of cash in my face.”  
  
“Probably because you don’t need it as much as me.”  
  
“Ouch. Fair, I suppose,” Kelly sighed shifting her bag strap. “You will be careful though. I can’t afford you getting hurt, who’ll keep me sane if you’re gone?”  
  
Em’s lip twitched up in a smile. “I dread to think.”  
  
Kelly giggled and hooked an arm through her’s, pulling her along towards the dress shop. It sure was fancy and Em wasn’t too sure she had enough money to be able to afford one of these, but Kelly had insisted that this was best shop in the city. Which probably meant it was also the most expensive.  
  
Still, Em was at loss, as they walked into the shop and stared at all the beautiful and exquisite dresses that lined the shelves and were shown on the manikins. A few of the women gave her dirty looks, the higher class always frowned down at someone like her. She was used to it, but that didn’t make it sting any less.  
  
Kelly didn’t seem to notice, but she wasn’t the one getting the looks thrown at her. She was too busy gushing over a green dress with sequins that glittered in the light.  
  
Most of the dresses in stock at the moment were all higher end, evening wear for a big party, in preparation for the Rapture anniversary ball. It showed how big of an event this was, Em hadn’t really consider quite the size of it. She usually spent it alone, getting drunk or occasionally playing poker games. She’d never actually been to the party. Kelly had, because she made it her mission to get a date to the high end event just so she could ditch them and find someone else at the party.  
  
Honestly, Em lost track of how many men that woman had slept with.  
  
“Oh this is a lovely one,” Kelly said holding up the green dress to Em. “What do you think?”  
  
“Red and green should never be seen,” Em replied holding up her crimson hair.  
  
Kelly pouted. “Fine, not this one. Hmm. What about that blue one?” She picked up a lovely blue satin dress with silver sequins that slowly dissipated into the blue.  
  
It wasn’t bad, but one look at the price tag had Em grimacing and shaking her head. It would cost her the rent and then some. She didn’t have the money to spare on something like that.  
  
“Why didn’t you just ask Fontaine to buy you a dress?”  
  
Em laughed at that. She laughed loudly and attracted attention of many of the store goers. She wasn’t too sure if the attention was due to her laughter or because Kelly offhandedly name dropped Fontaine into their conversation.  
  
Still, _Fontaine buying her a dress_? Let’s put that under things which will never happen and forget about it.  
  
“Like hell. What’s wrong with my dress?”  
  
“It’s not right for these type of events,” Kelly sighed placing the blue dress down and looking through the rest of the colours. “You need something classy and feminine.”  
  
“Oh, yes… because those are two things I simply… exude,” Em gestured to herself in her working overalls, boots and tool belt. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she held not a single drop of make up on her face.  
  
Kelly gave her a level look. “Yes, dear. Completely lacking in femininity. If I had your face I wouldn’t bother with make up at all. Don’t sell yourself short,” she battered her away so she could move round to look at other things. “It’s not my fault you don’t use your looks to get what you want. Maybe if you did you’d realise just how stunning you are.”  
  
“Stunning’s pushing it.”  
  
“Oh, my god. So modest,” she sniffed, making her eyes look big and glassy. “I might cry.”  
  
“Very funny. Just help me find a dress that’s passable-.”  
  
“ _Passable_?” Kelly looked outraged, gaping at her. “Oh, no, no, no, no. You’re shopping with me, therefore, it’s nothing passable. It’s _the_ dress. You have to find, _the_ dress or else we’re not leaving this store.”  
  
Em rubbed at her eyes. This was a mistake, she should’ve just gone by herself and not dragged Kelly into it. Her only saving grace was that Diane wasn’t here. She’d have no hope of escaping early if Diane was here.  
  
The woman had been threatening for years to drag Em down shopping with her and she’d been able to dodge it for now. She really hoped that this… dress shopping with Kelly wouldn’t open up hopeful ideas. Em didn’t want to disappoint Diane, but in all honesty, shopping for clothes hadn’t interested her, since she found the whole thing terrifying. In her own way, but she couldn’t very well explain that to Kelly.  
  
Kelly would give her a funny look and laugh, but that was because Kelly looked good in everything and Em honestly could hate her a little bit for that.  
  
“I’m also going to give you a makeover.”  
  
“ _Pardon_?”  
  
“A makeover,” she gestured to her. “Makeup, hair, the works.”  
  
“I thought you said that I was and I quote.. stunning? What would I need to-.”  
  
“Nothing! You just need tidying up a little,” Kelly took a strand of her hair between her fingers. “Calm this wild fire down for starters. Do you know what a hair brush is.”  
  
“Yes. A torture device. My hair is wavy, I can’t help that!”  
  
“Em, honey, your knots are in knots… I might have to cut them out.”  
  
“You come at my hair with a pair of scissors-!”  
  
“What about this one!” Kelly quickly interrupted her, holding up a royal blue dress which was off the shoulder and came down at the back. “Pair it with a silver scarf, do your hair up all fancy… yeah I can see this working.”  
  
Em held the dress out so she could look at it. It wasn’t bad, certainly the best out of all of them, understated and not too flashy, which was more her style. She hated anything too over the top. The soft little sleeves were lovely, as they’d rest in the middle of her arms, but that would mean… her scars would be on show.  
  
She winced slightly, hand subconsciously rubbing at her back where the biggest one lay. Damn those blitz, that rubble had dug into her back and cut it up pretty bad. She’d needed stitches and so she had the scars still. Biggest one was on her back, a few on her shoulders along with a burn scar.  
  
It was one of the many reasons she was always covered up. She wouldn’t say she hated her body, but there were just some things… some things she felt uncomfortable with.  
  
It was why it was easier not to be too feminine. It always felt wrong, considering how marked up her skin was, she shouldn’t be aloud to be beautiful because in reality she wasn’t. Those _ugly,_ _horrible_ , _disgusting_ -  
  
“Hey…” Kelly said softly, gently touching her shoulder. “You okay?”  
  
“I… I can’t wear this one.. my _scars_ -.”  
  
“ _Hey_ ,” Kelly said firmly, startling Em out of her self pity. “You listen here and you listen good. Those scars, aren’t awful or horrible, you know why? Because they’re proof that you’re still _alive_. They’re proof that you _survived_ , that you made it. Yes it was the worst day of your life, no one can tell you otherwise, but you got through it and you’re _still here_. So don’t you dare, don’t you _dare!_ ” She held a finger up to her face. “You’re one of the best looking gals I know, the only one who can’t see it is you. Why’d you think Fontaine _picked_ you? The man isn’t blind, he said you’re just a distraction, because you’re damn right _stunning_!”  
  
Kelly huffed and straightened herself out, brushing her hair back, before continuing.  
  
“And to tell you the truth that’s why all these bitches in here glare at you. They’re jealous. They had to go and get their faces turned into plastic by Steinman because whatever god gave them just wasn’t good enough. So no self pity, I won’t have it,” she held the dress up to Em and directed her attention to a mirror. “You look in there, you see what those boys are gonna see? A fiery red head, with startling green eyes and porcelain skin, a few batters here and there, but what could be a better conversation starter? So you buy this dress, you go to this stupid ball and you _wreck the damn place_. _Ya hear me_?”  
  
Emilie blinked at her taking it all in, looking stunned and a little out of her comfort zone, before she cracked a smile.  
  
This was why Kelly was her best friend. In all honesty Em wasn’t really sure how the two of them had become best friends, they were chalk and cheese. Still, after spending so long down in Rapture, Em couldn’t imagine her life without Kelly now.  
  
“You’re crazy, Kells.”  
  
“Yes, it’s one of my better qualities,” Kelly grinned at her. “Now, chin up. We still haven’t finished.”  
  
“But we have the dress…?”  
  
“Shoes, jewellery, make up, clutch bag, coat and underwear.”  
  
“Underwear?!” Em spluttered going red in the face. “Are you- what in the hell do I need to buy new underwear for?”  
  
“Honey, I’ve seen your underwear draw, it almost made me cry,” Kelly walked her up to the counter. “No one should be so plain. You need to feel good about yourself.”  
  
“Just- I work in overalls!”  
  
“So?”  
  
“I’m the only one that sees them!”  
  
“That, my dear beloved Em, is why it’s most important. The only one who needs to enjoy their underwear is the one wearing it. Those boys are just lucky to see you in it,” Em stared at her with a mixture of horror, while Kelly turned to the cashier and smiled. “We’ll take this one, thank you.”

* * *

  
_Kelly Christie,_   
  
_Decent attention:_   
  
_What does a girl gotta do to get some decent attention around here? Ugh, my last few have been nothing but boring._   
  
_Strictly missionary. I like to spice things up, have a little bit of adventure. I’ll have to check in at… the store. Might find something useful there or at least inspirational. There’s gotta be some guys in this sunken dump who are into some bad china. Sadly, you can’t play it coy with men, they aren’t smart enough to get it. Sorta takes the fun away._   
  
_Well, beggars can’t be choosers._


	10. Midnight, The Stars and You

_Reggie,_   
  
_Frankie:_   
  
_Well… I’mma little drunk and feelin’ sentimental._   
  
_Back topside ‘bout good… ten or so years now me and Limey found this little runt of a kid, all curled up an’ shiverin’ mess. Little bugger near enough died of frost bite. Took ‘im in, got him warm again made sure he wasn’t sick… heh. That was the easy part. Not so easy part was gettin’ him to eat. He’d just… stare at the food or us. Watch us with these soft brown eyes behind blonde curles._   
  
_Cute kid but sharp as a knife. Ain’t seen nothin like it till little Frankie._   
  
_Took near enough a damn week to get him ta trust us enough to eat, a month to get him talking, ‘nother week to get his name near enough another damn month to get him ta trust us enough to eat with us. Then one day he just straight up vanished. Left sometime in the night._   
  
_Week later found him again cornered by some mook with a knife, what kind of a coward needs ta hold a knife up to a kid? Still broke the bastards arm, jaw and nose. Think I broke most of his face._   
  
_Frankie practically ran sobbing into my arms, scared little thing he used ta be. I took him back home, probably one of the few times I’ve ever seen Limey cry and smile. Kid was a little roughed up, those big eyes behind blonde curls just stared at me… think it was then I decided he was my kid and no one touches my kid._

* * *

  
She honestly couldn’t believe she was doing this. She hated fancy get togethers like this, they were all flash and over abundance, basically the rich showing off what they could do. More like, it was showing off what they could waste their money on and it made her feel a little disgusted.   
  
Around the edges of the ballroom were pieces of art, as well as the supposed artists, standing proudly by their creations. She wasn’t too sure what they were so damn proud about, it’s not like anyone hadn’t drawn this type of thing before. Maybe they were a bit more… gory or risqué than what you’d find topside, but really she didn’t see what all the fuss was about.   
  
She supposed that’s probably what made her ‘uncultured’ and the member of the lower class. She just couldn’t see their artistic vision, nor should she be expected to.   
  
Still, wasn’t her that was wasting money on a piece of art work that was being bought solely for the signature on the page.   
  
Glancing around the room she spotted Kelly, dutifully hanging off Sinclair’s arm, a fitted black dress showing off her curves and pushing her breasts up to be the main focus. Ah, she was there for the same reason Em was, she was a distraction. Distract the fat cats by making the head between their legs think for them and the brain on their shoulders temporarily shuts down.   
  
It was smart and she was starting to see what Kelly meant about using herself as a weapon, since the man Sinclair was talking to wasn’t paying attention at all to what Sinclair was saying and was instead… well it looked like he was having a very intense conversation with Kelly’s chest.   
  
Em wrapped her arms around herself consciously. God she needed a drink, she couldn’t do this sober, she’d snap. Punch a guy who looked at her like that. Actually maybe scratch the drink, she tended to be a bit more temperamental with liquor in her.   
  
A whistled sounded behind her and she span around, only to find Fontaine way too close to comfort. He was standing directly behind her, holding a glass of champagne in one hand, while the other sat comfortably in his pocket.   
  
He shamelessly let his eyes roam over her, before reaching her face and grinned.   
  
On second thoughts, she really needed that drink.   
  
“Well how bout that, I was right,” he drawled. “You can look presentable when you try.”   
  
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”   
  
He smirked, before calling over the waiter that was carrying the champagne around. Said waiter stared at Em as she took her drink and when he seemed to linger just a little too long, Fontaine was quick to bark at him to leave. The poor man didn’t need to be told twice and almost sprinted away from them, carefully weaving through the crowd of partiers.   
  
Just being in Fontaine’s presence reminded her how much she hated this man and did not want to be anywhere near him. A deal was a deal, however and she needed the help getting more contracts. Even though she did sign a nice little contract with Sinclair the other day, which was something she intended to keep to herself, it never hurt to have more options.   
  
“You shouldn’t have chased him off so quickly,” she mumbled, staring down at her drink.   
  
“Oh? Why’s that?”   
  
Wordlessly she downed the whole drink, grimacing at the awful taste. She was never much of a champagne drinker, but alcohol was alcohol. Nothing like a bit of liquid courage to relax the nerves.   
  
Fontaine was only staring at her, glancing at his drink and shaking his head. “Ya nuts. I don’t need you drunk, I need you focussed,” he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “So be a good girl and behave, hell, if you loosen up a bit, ya’ might even have a good time. Heaven knows it wouldn’t hurt and would it kill ya to smile?”   
  
She grimaced, resisted the urge to slap him and instead shot him a very sarcastic smile. “Maybe."  
  
“Cute kid, real cute.”   
  
“Oh, but I’m meant to be cute, aren’t I, Mister Fontaine?” She giggled, high and mocking of all the other girls she’d seen do this at one point or another, even reaching up to twirl one of the loose strands of her hair around her finger. “I am after all the distraction.”   
  
“Distractions don’t talk. They just stand there being pretty. That’s all I need you to do,” he narrowed his eyes. “So keep ya trap _shut_ and let me do the talking. You haven’t forgotten our little deal, have you?”   
  
Ah yes, the deal that got her into this mess. She was sorely regretting ever saying yes to this in the first place. Should’ve said no outright or just not turned up, but here she was. Making herself out to be eye candy, a role she never thought she’d ever play.   
  
“Oh I remember very clearly, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
“Frank.”   
  
“What?”   
  
He side eyed her, before walking her through the crowd and Em tried not to stumble in the ridiculous heels Kelly forced her to wear.   
  
“Call me Frank. Just for this evening.”   
  
“I’m guessing Frankie’s off the table?”   
  
“Not unless yous got a death wish.”   
  
“Frank it is.”   
  
In all honesty, the evening was boring. The rich really did babble on a bit, she didn’t even feel sorry for the poor suckers who were easily being reeled in by Fontaine. It didn’t take long for the man to pick through the crowd and he bought them all, hook line and sinker.   
  
Emilie hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversations, instead taking her time to observe the room and see who was there that she recognised. Kelly would sometimes glance over and offer a reassuring smile, but she too was playing distraction tonight so the only time she’d get chance to speak to her would be if they both took a powder.   
  
Around the room Em spotted a lot of the supposed ‘best and brightest’, though she would debate that after watching how stupid they were when put against a wordsmith like Fontaine. Steinman, Cohen, Ada, Ava, that security chief, christ even Poole was here, no doubt looking to get the juicy gossip.   
  
She really hoped he didn’t spot her, she could almost see the headline and could almost imagine Peach’s next line of insults. Neither appealed.   
  
“Ah, I don’t think we’ve been introduced, Miss..?”   
  
“ _Doctor_ , actually. Doctor Sofia Lamb.”   
  
Em quickly turned back to the conversation to find a tall thin woman, almost unhealthily thin, standing in front of them. Her dress wasn’t over the top or flashy, it was a simple slim blue dress with a bolero, stylish glasses rested on her face and her blonde hair was done up neatly. Though, it was the way she held herself, that surprised Em. It wasn’t a flirtatious or over confident stance, it was one that commanded respect. Straight backed and her face didn’t give much away in the terms of what she was thinking.   
  
So this was that Doctor Lamb those posters were advertising. Her eyes… they were bad on the poster, but they were worse in real life. Stared right into your soul, she looked like she’d already figured Fontaine out and the man was only just introducing himself.   
  
“My apologies, Doctor,” he corrected himself, offering a smile that to the untrained eye would’ve appeared friendly. “Frank Fontaine.”   
  
“Yes, I know,” Sofia responded, calmly taking a sip of her drink. “I wasn’t expecting you here, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
“What and miss the shin dig?” He laughed. “It’s always good to get out. Get too cooped up in the office, drives ya’ crazy.”   
  
“Hmm,” Lamb nodded, still looking him over. Though it was more like she was studying him. “And I suppose this new endeavour of yours… the Fontaine clinic in Pauper’s Drop?”   
  
_The what now?_   
  
Fontaine seemed a little surprised that Lamb even knew about that. Still he was able to plaster on a smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes and his voice held a quality of mock friendliness as he spoke.   
  
“Now, Doctor Lamb, that’s not even been revealed to the public yet, just how did you find out?”   
  
“I’m a councillor, Mister Fontaine. I listen to people’s problems or what is causing them stress. I can’t tell you who, due to doctor patient confidentiality, but a lot of your workers seem very… put out, shall we say?” She took another sip of her drink. “I would hope you’re not being too harsh on your fellow man.”   
  
“O’ course not.”   
  
Em snorted, before wincing as his grip tightened on her waist.   
  
“Somethin’ _funny_ , dollface?”   
  
Her eye twitched, but she kept up a smile. “Just at the _absurd_ idea of you _ever_ treating people poorly,” she simpered. “Why, you’d _never_ do that at all- waiter, waiter! Can I have another drink please.”   
  
Fontaine was still glaring at her even with Lamb standing directly in front of him. Didn’t seem to bother him at all. More than anything though, she hoped it would send Lamb away, Fontaine’s icy or heated looks tended to do that. Much to Em’s surprise, the doctor hadn’t even flinched, instead she seemed to be observing the situation calmly.   
  
“You haven’t introduced us, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
Fontaine seemed to come back to himself, smiling brightly and gesturing to Em, who now had a fresh glass of bubbly in her hand. “Ah, this is Ms Emilie Lokken. The best welder in Rapture, I guarantee it.”   
  
“Yes I hear Mister Sinclair spoke to her yesterday,” Lamb smiled. “The person who told me was a concerned citizen.”   
  
Em didn’t think she could go any more pale then she was now. It felt like all the blood had drained from her face and she stared at Lamb like she’d just signed her death sentence. Probably had, now that she thought about it.   
  
“Was she now!” Em winced at the forced joviality. “Well, who am I to stand in the way of progress?”   
  
“I’m just going to take a powder…” she mumbled, slinking out of Fontaine’s grip and dashing to the bathroom, ignoring Kelly’s questioning gaze as she all but sprinted.   
  
That Lamb woman… she was trying to drive a knife between her and Fontaine or maybe she was just trying to put Em in a vulnerable place? She never trusted therapists themselves, she always found the word itself interesting. Therapist, as in ‘the rapist’, seemed fitting. They sure as hell raped your mind and dug through it without your permission or at least that’s what she felt.   
  
Leaning against the sink, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She was fine, Fontaine wouldn’t react badly… hopefully. Oh who was she kidding? She’d be lucky to make it back home without conveniently disappearing. She’d have to try and calm him down, maybe explain what had happened? Make up some lie about Sinclair forcing her into it?   
  
_Stupid_ , _stupid plan_! Should never have gotten mixed up with these men, all of them were just trying to show off, to prove they were the bigger man. It was all rather pathetic really, but that didn’t stop her from being just a little scared of the outcome. Fontaine and Ryan…. Jesus, things were getting heated between those two. It was almost like a competition of who could be the worst human being in this sinking city.   
  
Ryan would do something, so Fontaine would do a bigger something which then caused Ryan to react and so on and so forth. It made her head spin. She was pretty certain it made everyone’s head spin with how quickly things were changing and now.. Fontaine had this Suchong and Tenenbaum, well what the hell did that mean? He was looking into science now too?   
  
She grimaced at her reflection.   
  
If she wasn’t dead by tonight, he’d probably have her working on a new building.   
  
Em closed her eyes, remembering the days when life was a lot simpler, missing those days a great deal, before she collected herself and strode out of the bathroom.   
  
She glanced around the ballroom looking for Fontaine, spotted him easily enough. He was talking to Sinclair…   
  
Well, she may as well dig her grave right now! Sinclair sure as hell wasn’t going to cover her back, he’d probably be boasting to Fontaine. Whinding the other man up because he found it enjoyable to whined people up. Whined them up and watch them go, don’t they make the most wonderful destruction pissed off?   
  
Yeah, Sinclair sure as hell thought so, Em was certain of it. Fontaine did the same thing of course, usually to her.   
  
“Ah, so rags to riches has finally reached riches…”   
  
Many, many things Em was expecting to happen tonight, being approached by Sander Cohen was not one of them.   
  
Cohen was dressed in a tux, a smile plastered across his face and now she could see the 20s star he used to be. He was a hack now, but sure as hell she was not going to say that to his face. She was out of her depth here.   
  
“Mister Cohen,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”   
  
“Oh I feel you do, little spitfire.”   
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
“Not to your liking?” He mused, he looked fairly pleased with himself. “It’s what Fontaine calls you.”   
  
She felt her eye twitch. “Add it to the very long list of names he calls me,” she bit out. “That’s probably the more flattering of the bunch.”   
  
Cohen looked… delighted. Was he another who just liked annoying people until they snapped? Jesus, what was with these rich pricks? Live and let live for Christ’s sake! Or, leave her alone would be even better.   
  
“I see it now. I see the reason you earned that name, though I must agree…. Spitfire is less then flattering- oh Steinman! Steinman, my dear fellow!” Cohen waved enthusiastically to another man, some patrons had to dodge his flailing arm as they went past.   
  
The surgeon walked over, looking a little annoyed with Cohen’s antics, Em was honestly surprised the two even knew each other. Rosa had never mentioned that Steinman had a liking to art. She just went on and on about how amazing of a surgeon he was.   
  
“Yes, Sander?”   
  
First name basis too? Okay… they were probably the oddest pair Em had ever seen.   
  
“My dear Doctor Steinman,” Cohen gushed, pulling the man closer and pointing to Em. “Look who I managed to make the acquaintance of! Fontaine’s little spitfire! She lives up to her name too, my dear fellow, watch your mouth unless you want her to shred you to pieces.”   
  
Oddly, Em felt a little flattered. She wasn’t comfortable though, Cohen and Steinman both made her uneasy. Sander Cohen seemed crazier then a box of frogs and Steinman was cold. He looked at her without an ounce of emotion, more looking at her like a test subject, if she was to describe it, while Cohen… looked at her fondly? Was that a fond expression?   
  
“So… the famed Ms Lokken, I take it?” Steinman said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not what I expected. I thought you’d be untouched.”   
  
“Untouched?” She echoed with a raised eyebrow, severely tempted to start raising her fist also.   
  
Steinman gestured to her arm where the burn scar lay. “I saw the others on your back, it’s been nagging me all evening. Doesn’t it bother you to be so un-perfect? I could fix that for you. Make them go away.”  
  
“What and take away my conversation starter?”   
  
Cohen giggled, he seemed to be enjoying the show at least, Steinman however scrunched his nose up in disgust.   
  
“They’re ugly,” he said rather bluntly.   
  
He was touching on a rather raw nerve, but she couldn’t afford him to know that. Sucking in a breath to calm herself down, her fist was clenched and shaking. She very much wanted to send her fist flying into his face and bust it up so he’d need surgery. Now was not the time, nor the place.   
  
“Only in the eyes of those who lack imagination,” she snarled. “I didn’t think someone like you would lack imagination, Doctor. You disappoint me.”   
  
“Oh, I do like you,” Cohen grinned. “See what I told you? She is right of course, her scars tell a story! Why hide those? I’d very much like to map that story out, Ms Lokken.”   
  
“Sorry Mister Cohen, a girl has to keep some secrets to herself, plus if everyone knew it… not much of story for me to tell now is it?”   
  
“Of course, of course. I would not wish to steal a fellow artists work.”   
  
“ _She_ isn’t an artist, she’s a welder,” Steinman snapped. “Stop being so complimentary of something so…”   
  
“Wrong? Ugly?” She ticked them off. “I got more. Let me tell you Steinman there is nothing you could say that I haven’t heard before or I don’t call myself. In fact, I’d say I call myself worse things, certainly more creative things, than you ever could.”   
  
“That I believe isn’t hard.”  
  
“No it’s not, but any old fool can bring a person down, it takes a smart person to bring someone up,” she shrugged a little, giving a little smile. “You clearly showed which one of those you are.”   
  
Sander clapped enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. Steinman looked about ten seconds away from killing her. Not a look you’d expect on a doctor. Though Em was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, the Hippocratic oath meant very little to the doctors down here.   
  
“I think you should stop talking, my dear Steinman,” Cohen crooned. “She’s going to tear you to shreds! I shan’t be there to pick up the pieces afterwards. You’ll have to do that yourself and stitch yourself back together again.”   
  
“Then he’d be as scarred up as I am.”   
  
“Ha! The lady does speak the truth,” Cohen pushed Steinman away. “Go away now, while what little of your pride remains intact.”   
  
Steinman huffed and stormed away, disappearing into the crowd and Em was glad to be rid of him. She really shouldn’t of come here, she didn’t belong. She wanted to be at home drinking or playing poker, not here.   
  
First Lamb and now Steinman, these rich pricks sure as hell thought they could say whatever they wanted to you and get away with it. Probably didn’t think a working girl would over step her boundaries and tell them where to shove it.   
  
“He’ll get over it,” Cohen waved his head airily. “He’s just stuck up, but the man does have vision when he’s not being pretentious.”   
  
“I’ll take your word for that,” she mumbled. “Mister Cohen, might I ask just how in the hell so many people know about me? I’m not exactly talked about.”   
  
“Oh my dear, you’re so wrong. Ryan, Sinclair, Fontaine… they all what a piece of your skill, your talent! If the three biggest people in Rapture what your work, lord knows people are going to start talking,” he smiled at her. “Gossip, one finds, is like a wildfire. Only takes a little spark to get it going.”   
  
“Yeah and it can be just as dangerous.”   
  
Cohen grinned, smoothing his hair back and quickly gesturing for a waiter to come over with drinks. He seemed to what to continue this conversation, Em on the other hand wanted to get out of it as quick as possible. She’d never been much of a fan of these artist types. They were all too flamboyant and spontaneous for her liking. Could never quite tell just what they were going to do next.   
  
“Hmm, yes, you might want to avoid that drip, Poole, then,” he picked up two glasses and handed her one. “I hear he’s been looking for a big scoop, since this little jewel thief has dropped out of the picture. I find his writing incredibly boring and tiresome. No imagination. Where’s the _drama_? The _life_? It’s a disgrace to literature!”   
  
She thanked him for the drink and took a sip of it, glancing around to get a beed on Fontaine, wishing for the first time he was here to save her.   
  
“Looking for your man, little spitfire?”   
  
“Looking for my _employer_ ,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t touch that man to punch him.”   
  
“And yet… here you are.”   
  
“We have a deal,” she mumbled, spotting Sinclair… but no Fontaine.   
  
Wonderful, just wonderful.   
  
Sinclair noticed her and smiled, giving a little wave, while Kelly was staring at her with wide eyes. Said eyes were darting between Em and Cohen, clearly she was questioning why her friend would be talking to an artist when she despised them so much.   
  
“I attend this stupid dance and he helps me get more clientele. Though… that deal might have gone out the window by now.”   
  
“Oh I wouldn’t worry about clientele, my dear Valkyrie, if Ryan and Fontaine want you… soon enough the whole of Rapture will. Like I said, gossip spreads.”   
  
“Valkyrie?” She raised an eyebrow.   
  
Cohen waved his hand around taking a sip of his drink. “It’s what you are. Cutting down your enemies with your sharp tongue, you’re an entertainment to watch. Would you consider staring in a film?”   
  
“No… thank you. I’ll stick to my welding.”   
  
“Such a pity… I could’ve taken you to the stars!” He gestured to the sky. “Yet you want to stay in the mirk.”   
  
“I like the mirk,” she mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, eyes scanning the crowd for that shiny bald head. Seriously? How could she have lost him? “I do well in the mirk.”   
  
Cohen giggled, eyes flickering into the crowd also. He didn’t seem keen on letting her go anywhere still, she hated the fact she just seemed to attract trouble wherever she went. What was it Kelly had said? She played roulette with her life and cheered when she dodged a bullet? She was starting to get it now.   
  
“I’m sure you do, little Valkyrie… why else would Fontaine be so insistent on keeping you?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “No one works better in the mirk than he does, why else is old Andrew failing at his own game? He simply doesn’t have the scratch anymore, but you didn’t hear that from me…” Cohen looked back at the crowd grinning. “But the old bear sure does know how to annunciate.”   
  
“Unlike Fontaine’s awful bronx?”   
  
Sander’s eyes flashed and he grinned at her, all teeth, looking positively pleased with her response. “I pity your ears for listening to it so much. One wonders why they’re not bleeding.”   
  
“Well, I’m not talking to Fontaine at the moment am I?”   
  
“Maybe not, but you certainly will in a moment…” he said, glancing over her shoulder.   
  
Emilie frowned, before turning to see Fontaine marching over to her and he did not look happy. People were scattering out of the way, probably just so they didn’t get yelled at or stepped on. It didn’t look like anything was going to stop him, if Em wasn’t sure about her impending death before, she certainly was now.   
  
“Would you like me to stay?” Cohen asked from behind her. “He certainly looks to be in a bad mood.”   
  
“Valkyrie, wasn’t that what you said? Why should I be scared of him?”   
  
“Because my dear, if you are a Valkyrie, he is a Titan.”   
  
She couldn’t argue with that.   
  
“Where the hell did you go?” He hissed at her as his opening greeting. “Scampered off because of that Lamb twist?”   
  
“I didn’t scamper-.”   
  
“Nah, you’re right, you damn well sprinted,” Fontaine seemed to finally notice Cohen and he looked… a little uneasy. “Cohen… thank you for keeping my lady company…”   
  
“A pleasure, Mister Fontaine,” he bowed elegantly, looking to Em. “Be sure to drop by Fort Frolic, dear Valkyrie. I so do wish to continue our little chat…”   
  
Without another word, Cohen pivoted on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. No doubt to find Steinman or hell, even Ryan. Which meant she was now left to deal with a livid Fontaine.   
  
“So,” he started. “Needed my help getting some extra deals, huh? Seem to be doing a pretty good job by ya’self. _Sinclair_?” He snarled the name out. “You’re working for him now on that secret little project of his?”  
  
“Free market, Mister Fontaine. I’m not breaking contract,” she replied calmly, though inside her heart was hammering in her chest, threatening to burst out of her ribcage. “And with all due respect, he approached me.”   
  
“Oh, I’m sure he did…” he said darkly, cold eyes piercing her to the core. “I bet he fuckin’ did.”   
  
“What about this?” She spluttered quickly. This was a stupid idea, but what choice did she have? “I’m working on his secret project… I might be able to tell you what it is?”   
  
Fontaine paused, the anger seemed to wash out of him for now. She thanked her lucky stars because it meant he might not kill her outright. He might let her live. She could only hope, but did Fontaine really kill people? She’d heard rumours, she’d heard about the accidents at the docks. There’d been a few more than what was… well, standard.   
  
She knew Fontaine beat people up or had Reggie do it. That didn’t bother her, wouldn’t be the first businessmen to resort to violent means of keeping his employees inline.   
  
Heh, businessman? Fontaine was a criminal, he was smuggling stuff in and having contact with the surface. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew and Ryan was going batty about it. Well, that’s what Bill had said.   
  
“You’re a crafty bitch, have I ever told ya that?”   
  
Em blinked at him. Was that a good thing? She wasn’t sure. Fontaine ran a hand over his bald head, staring out at the crowd. People watching for a moment, before he turned his attention back to her and he smiled.   
  
A shiver went up her spine at that smile. It was neither a good smile or a bad smile. It was cold, like his eyes. Who would’ve thought that brown eyes could be pools of ice? She didn’t, she always thought of brown eyes being warm and friendly. Fontaine was able to suck all the warmth out of his.   
  
“Alright then, kid,” he said, taking her arm and walking her back through the crowd. “You use that pretty little head of yours to find out what’s going on in Sinclair’s secret project. Persephone sure has my curiosity… given the rumours surroundin’ the place. Hell, I might even increase your wage.”   
  
She didn’t believe him. He was just trying to reel her in, like all the other saps in this place. Fontaine sure could play the charm card when he wanted to. Em had found it a little unnerving watching him work, in the moments when she was paying attention, how quickly he switched character to help get him what he wanted. It was like he flicked a switch in his brain and suddenly became a completely different person.   
  
“What are you doing in Pauper’s Drop?” She asked, it had been bugging her since Lamb had mentioned it. “Can’t imagine there’d be much money for you to make down there.”  
  
“You’d be surprised,” he replied. “Heard a lot of those sad saps can’t afford a real doctor… what about a place they can?”  
  
“I would say that’s nice of you, but I know you too well to think you did it out of the goodness of your heart.”   
  
“Oh, dollface, you don’t know me at all,” he winked at her. “Besides… money’s money. Cicil was sure excited to have a proper practice.”   
  
“ _Cicil_?!” She cried, eyes wide in horror. “You can’t be serious? Do you know what that bastard does?!”   
  
Frank shot her a very level look. “Do you?”   
  
No, she didn’t know. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know, but she knew enough. Enough to know that having a lunatic like him running a clinic was the worst decision imaginable. He was a Doctor who had completely abandoned the Hippocratic oath entirely. She didn’t think he even knew what empathy was. It probably didn’t exist in the man. He was incapable of it.   
  
Em had only ever seen him once in passing. He’d been heading to his own little clinic in the Drop and the look he shot her, to this day, scared her. There was nothing. No emotion or friendliness, just a blank slate.   
  
“I know enough to know that giving him run of a clinic… with your funding, is a bad idea. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”   
  
“No, but I’m sure as hell excited to find out,” Fontaine was looking pretty pleased with himself. “Especially since I got my new project… you’ll be workin’ on that too. Just as a heads up.”   
  
“The one with those other crazy doctors?” She frowned. “Suchong and Tenenbaum?”   
  
Frank hummed in agreement. Though he didn’t really seem to be paying her much attention anymore. Following his gaze she spotted Ryan surrounded by a whole gaggle of people, talking to them all, with Diane on his arm. She was babbling to some other women, all smartly dressed in big fancy dresses that rather made her own look dull.   
  
Em shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Fontaine who seemed to of made up his mind to go and talk to Ryan. She tried to wiggle out of his grip, to disappear to the bar, but he tightened his hold, fixing her with a stern look.   
  
She wasn’t going anywhere, but with him, no questions asked.   
  
Emilie had never spoken to Ryan besides going over plans or when he hired her in the first place. Then again, she wasn’t meant to be talking to him, was she? She was just meant to stand there and look pretty.   
  
“Mister Ryan,” Fontaine greeted with a grin that could cut glass. “Wasn’t so sure you’d be turnin’ up.”   
  
Ryan stared at Fontaine. Clearly he hadn’t expected Frank to be here either. Beside him stood Bill and his wife, Diane hung on his arm Sullivan was standing just behind her with a glass of champagne in his hand. Judging how wobbly he was on his feet, it wasn’t his first glass either.   
  
The ones who knew Em seemed surprised she was even there in the first place. Diane certainly looked shocked, but also a little pleased that Em was all dolled up and not in her usual working scrubs. Those, Em would kill for right now, she hated this dress. Showed off too much flesh for her liking.   
  
“Fontaine,” Ryan replied cooly, not an ounce of warmth or fondness in his tone. “I wouldn’t miss a chance to celebrate another year of Rapture prospering. It’s also a good time to get a view of the latest art work.”   
  
“O’ course, wouldn’t want to miss that,” Frank drawled, glancing at the work in question. “You looking lovely this evenin’ Miss McClintock.”   
  
“Oh, thank you, Mister Fontaine,” she nodded giving a little smile, before turning to Em. “Where and when did you get that, you look positively define.”   
  
“Stretching it a bit don’t you think, Diane?” one of the crones next to her crooned. “She looks passable.”   
  
“Least I’m not falling out of my clothing,” Em muttered into her drink, but she was certain the bitch had heard her because she narrowed her eyes and as if on cue the rest of her friends did the same.   
  
Em didn’t believe in a sisterhood, but Rapture’s elite could probably pass as one. Jesus, they sure were judgemental.   
  
Diane went wide eyed, glancing between Em and the others, before finally she turned to Em. “Well I think you look lovely.”   
  
“And yours is the only opinion that matters to me.”   
  
The crone from earlier laughed. “Why, because she’s your friend?” She said snidely and Emilie knew she couldn’t punch her, but well it was awful tempting.   
  
Fontaine must of realised this, because he tightened his hold on her arm, probably just a subtle warning not to do anything rash.   
  
Right. Contract.   
  
“No,” Em replied carefully, before letting her eyes slowly and deliberately trail up the other woman’s dress before looking her dead in the eyes. “Because she’s the only one with a decent bit of fashion sense. Seriously honey, _those shoes_ with _that dress_?”   
  
Bill laughed, covering it up with a cough, while Diane seemed to be biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.   
  
The woman looked outraged, turning to Fontaine quickly. “Mister Fontaine, you should control your date. Maybe she needs to go home? I think she’s had a bit too much to drink.”   
  
Frank only looked amused. “Nah, this is her first drink of the evenin’, can’t take her home yet. Promised her at least one dance,” he winked, before turning to Ryan. “So, Mister Ryan, how’s business? Heard Ryan Industries is expandin’ next week. I’ll have to watch my back, huh?”   
  
“How was it you put it, Mister Fontaine?” Ryan mused. “No harm in expanding? Better to broaden your horizon, if a business is expected to grow, one can’t simply stay in one place. Though, you are no stranger to that,” he offered his own sharp smile. “Why, you started out as a fishermen and are now the proud owner of a department store, I even hear word of you expanding into the scientific community.”   
  
“Business has been good, Mister Ryan. What can I say? Besides,” he looked at his glass, twirling it in his fingers. “Science has always been real interestin’ to me. Seems to me like it might be just the place to strike it rich, though, I’m not doing too bad as it is.”   
  
It was very clear that neither man liked each other and all this was just pleasantries and boasting. Fontaine was clearly trying to ruffle Ryan’s feathers and Ryan seemed just as keen to do the same thing to him. It was impressive that neither men had flown off the handle yet, but they were in a public place. Image was everything, especially in Ryan’s case. He couldn’t afford to loose his cool in public.   
  
Em would almost find it an amusing transaction to watch, if she didn’t feel that bitch from earlier glaring into the back of her head. Was she mad that Em had been truthful? Shouldn’t of looked so stupid then. Shouldn’t of opened her damn mouth in the first place, but like she said with Steinman, there wasn’t anything they could say she hadn’t already thought of.   
  
“If business is going so well,” the bitch suddenly bit out. “Then surly you could’ve found better company,” she directed her gaze right at Em, who only blinked at her in response, looking completely unamused.   
  
“And what?” Fontaine snarled back, with more viciousness than Em had expected. “Settle for scraps? As I think Mister Ryan here would agree, ya can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”   
  
Very slowly Em turned to stare at him with wide eyes. She was stunned, shocked even. What was he doing? Trying to get on her good side so she was more likely to help him out more often? So he could manipulate her more? Sounded like a reasonable answer, but that didn’t stop her from being shocked.   
  
What sort of loopy land had she entered where Fontaine was protecting her honour?   
  
“You folks enjoy your evenin’,” Fontaine drawled, turning to give Em a smile. “C’mon doll, let’s head to the bar.. I’m dyin’ for a proper drink.”   
  
She half heartedly muttered not to call her that, before following him in a dream. She didn’t believe that what had transpired, had actually transpired and by the time they reached the bar, she’d shook herself out of his grip. Fontaine let her go this time and she about collapsed on the bar, staring with wide eyes at the table top, while Fontaine ordered the drinks. Her head was spinning and she wasn’t entirely sure of what to do.   
  
“You good?”   
  
Her eyes flickered to him as he lit a cigarette. “Why..?”   
  
Frank shrugged. “What was our deal again? I treat ya like a proper date?” He mused, staring at the burning end of the cigarette. “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t defend your honour?” He simpered, placing a hand to his chest and sending her a mocking smile.   
  
“Well… you’d be the kind I expect you to be. Still..” She looked back at the bar top with a frown. “Thanks… Not often that people do that for me…”   
  
Fontaine seemed to consider her a moment, glancing around the room before leaning in close. She almost flinched when his breath tickled her neck.   
  
“Well, you were ‘bout two seconds away from sluggin’ that bitch’s lights out and that wouldn’t do very good for my image, now would it?” He whispered, still he looked amused at the idea. “But, if ya want my advice… don’t let the bastards see ya sweat, doll. Gets these rich pricks off.”   
  
“Aren’t you one of those… rich pricks though?”   
  
He pondered this a moment, looking to be debating saying anything. He took a thoughtful drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke up to the ceiling. Casually he leaned against the bar top, staring out at the crowds with a look of nothing but contempt.   
  
“Let’s just say… I didn’t come from money.”   
  
That’s when she got it. Frank, hated these people, probably just as much as she did. His accent… well the bronx wasn’t exactly a well to do or posh side of New York and then there was his figure she’s observed back at his penthouse, what felt like months ago now. He had a working man’s figure, because he had been a working man. His hands were still smooth, so she wasn’t sure what work he’d done, but he certainly hadn’t started off life as a well to do businessman who got invited to rich parties.   
  
He’d been like her. The lower class, fighting just to stay alive and that was probably why he was so cruel. She got that, she understood the harshness, the cruelty. When you didn’t have much money, you couldn’t afford to be anything else. You had to fight to earn your keep and keep fighting so no one else would take it from you.   
  
Just look at Pauper’s Drop, every little guy as tearing each other apart just to get a little bit more ahead, when in reality who they really should be ripping into were the bastards that controlled their wages.   
  
Now though, she felt like she understood Frank Fontaine just a little bit better than she had before. The reason he wasted his time with these things was he enjoyed rubbing it in the rich’s faces. They were all so high and mighty and then a guy from the bronx was beating them. Was the only rival to Ryan because he was smart and officiant. Didn’t waste too much time being flamboyant, just got the work done so he could get the money.   
  
The department store was flamboyant though, probably Frank indulging himself in the finer things in life now that he could. Really sticking it to these rich pricks in a way they’d understand.   
  
Her posture relaxed a little. She still didn’t like him, but she understood him.   
  
“Don’t know bout you but I think I’ve gone as long as I can stand with these bastards,” Fontaine muttered, taking his drink from the bartender, while Em took her own.   
  
“Surprised we didn’t leave earlier.”   
  
“Was half tempted when yous started speaking to Cohen,” Frank mumbled into his drink.   
  
“Don’t like him do you?”   
  
“Friendly advice,” he muttered. “Stay away from that crackpot. Trust me.”   
  
Em raised an eyebrow. “Awfully considerate of you.”  
  
“As I said, I like ya, Ms Em,” he gave her a sharp toothed grin. “Even if you are a headache and fuckin chore.”   
  
“Gee. Thanks.”   
  
Fontaine smirked, before holding his glass up to her and shaking it a little, looking expectant.   
  
She allowed her own smirk for once, seeming to think they’d found a mutual ground, which at least meant he wasn’t going to kill her… for the moment.   
  
Em raised her own glass to his and the resounding clink rebounded in her ears. For some reason, this felt more like a deal being struck than any signed contract or shook hand.   
  
You shared a drink with friends after all and with a friend like Fontaine? Well, who needed enemies?

* * *

  
_Sander Cohen,_   
  
_Fontaine’s spitfire:_   
  
_Fontaine’s little spitfire did not disappoint. She’s so much more fun than those bores and louts Andrew seems to like having around. It honestly is both astonishing and insulting that a man who made all this possible would find such tiresome company acceptable. But Fontaine has taste. At least where his employees are concerned. His spitfire bit off Steinman’s head which was an amusing transaction to watch._   
  
_As I said she is no lout or… bore. She’s a wildfire… sashaying around, slitting throats with her sharp tongue where ever she goes… I don’t think spitfire quite does her justice… she’s no cumbersome aircraft… she’s a regal spirit, elegantly picking her way through the hordes of the dead. Given her heritage and homeland…. A Valkyrie is more fitting for her… I’ve never painted one of those before…_


	11. I can't begin to tell you

_Emilie Lokken_   
  
_Fontaine winning:_   
  
_Fontaine’s winning these days. Hell he might as well be running Rapture already. People are more scared of him than Ryan since Ryan’s still got… rules I guess, or a reputation, an image to live up to. Fontaine doesn’t._   
  
_He’d shake your hand with a smile, before he stabs you in the back._

* * *

  
“Fontaine Futuristics? What’s that?”   
  
Emilie looked up from her work on the current electrical board she was working on. It was just her and Kyburz in the room, outside the sound of men working and Daniel’s voice could be heard as he directed them.   
  
They were finally finishing off Sinclair’s little project and in the few weeks she’d been here helping them, she was starting to see why Kyburz and Daniel had been so scared of this place. You really couldn’t see it, not if you didn’t know it was there. If you knew where to look sure, then you could see it, otherwise it may as well be invisible. That in itself was off putting and she would agree with Kyburz on the name, Persephone didn’t bring the happiest of thoughts. Especially if you knew the legend.   
  
Recently, Em had taken up a part time contract with Fontaine and it really was serving her well. Pretty soon she’d be moving out of the Sinclair Deluxe and good riddance. She’d be glad to get away from the place.   
  
She pondered Kyburz’s question, she wasn’t too sure how much she could tell him. Probably not a lot. Fontaine had been real shifty regarding the new space he was thinking of buying. She’d just seen some of the interior designs and plans, not the schematics yet. Hell, she wasn’t even sure which building Fontaine Futuristics was located in.   
  
“I don’t really know, Kyburz,” she admitted, looking back at her work. “Something to do with science, I know that much.”   
  
“So Fontaine’s dabbling with science now? What exactly is he planning on working on?”   
  
Again, that was another thing Em wasn’t too sure of. She knew Suchong and Tenenbaum were working on it and apparently it was going to make big money or at least that’s what Fontaine had said. In fact he’d even been… excited? He’d certainly been in a better mood as of late. Hell, her work on the sub he used to smuggle things into Rapture had gotten her a bonus, she couldn’t really complain.   
  
Plus, the last time she’d gone down to the Fisheries, Peach had avoided her like the plague and Reggie had been nothing short of a gentleman. Limey had still been… well, Limey. She was a woman who seemed to keep everyone at a distance, it was just how she was. That and being blunt.   
  
“You think he tells me those bits?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “He just tells me what to work on and I work on it. Like you did with this place."   
  
“Don’t remind me, I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall for that,” he sighed going over his clipboard, before looking up and forcing a smile on his face. “Still. Almost over now, won’t have to come here after my shift in Hephestus. Thank god. I hate this place.”  
  
“Starting to see why,” she agreed. “It’s in a weird place. At least…” she began softly staring out of the window at the rest of the corridor. “At least we know for certain what it is now. Can’t mistake cell doors.”   
  
Kyburz grimaced, looking very put out at being reminded of such. He’d never been comfortable with the idea to begin with. A prison in Rapture? Who needed that? Sure there was this thief or.. had been? They’d disappeared for now and of course there were Fontaine’s smugglers, if they ever got caught.   
  
Fontaine was a clever man, it would probably take a while for him to actually be caught. Hell, she doubted Fontaine would ever be caught, his men would be.. or they’d… vanish, but he wouldn’t be caught. He was too good, too clever and at this moment in time he was running circuits around Ryan. Sending him one way and then going towards another.   
  
Ryan, from what Em understood, wasn’t too bothered by Fontaine, for now at least. Yes he didn’t like him, that was clear as day, but Ryan didn’t really like anyone, she didn’t think.   
  
“Why though? Things aren’t bad… no one’s committed any crimes, unless you count the smuggling,” Kyburz looked back over his notes. “We don’t need this.”   
  
“I hate to say it, but we might,” Em said softly. “Pauper’s Drop is getting worse. A lot worse. Sure there’s rules, but they don’t reach down there. Survival of the fittest. That’s the only law in that place.”   
  
“Can’t be that bad, surly?”   
  
“How’d you know?”   
  
He fell silent at that. She was right and he knew she was right. Kyburz hadn’t ever been down to the drop, she didn’t want him there. It would only make him worry more, she knew what he was like.   
  
“You care a little too much, Kyburz,” she mumbled softly.   
  
He smiled, looking amused, but it was almost sad. Like the joke was on him.   
  
“You don’t care enough,” he replied.   
  
She wanted to argue, but he was right. Em didn’t care, couldn’t afford to care. The only thing that mattered to her in that place was herself, no one else. Feelings had a tendency to get in the way, feeling sorry for someone else was a weakness you couldn’t afford to have. Hell, it wasn’t a weakness, it was a luxury and she could never afford such luxuries, at least not yet.   
  
Maybe when she was out of the drop she could afford to be sorry for the people down there, the ones trapped, but she couldn’t while that was still her place of living.   
  
“Can’t afford to,” Em said, picking up her tools and wondering towards the corridor. “I can’t afford to give a damn about anyone else in that place, because I guarantee you, no one else gives a damn about me.”

* * *

  
The fisheries were a cold place, when you breathed out you could see your breath. The warm air contrasting with the cold. Not that it bothered its owner too much, Fontaine could stand in that freezer for hours and it wouldn’t bother him, he’d suffered New York winters as a boy on the streets or at the back of a stage.  
  
No, the cold had never bothered Fontaine much at all, probably why he could stand for hours and hours in the place and not shiver once.   
  
Right now, he was watching Reggie slam his fists into the body of one thieving bastard who’d tried to knick some fish out of the ice boxes. He’d been caught and was now paying the consequences for it, but Frank thought he was being a lot nicer then Ryan’s constables.   
  
He remembered the poor sod Tenenbaum and Suchong had strapped down on the table when showing off ADAM, the guy had been caught stealing fish by Ryan’s guys and they’d cut him up with his own fish hook.   
  
At the thought of his latest investment Fontaine smiled.   
  
ADAM, a genetic wonder all of its own and straight from the surrounding sea around them. The stuff you could do with it, heal injuries in a blink of an eye, cure any illness just about. It was amazing and with the plasmid line that Suchong and Tenenbaum were developing also, well pretty soon he’d have Rapture in his pocket.   
  
Doctors would be paying for it, actors and actresses, it was a cure all for anything and everything. Didn’t like how you looked? Just shoot up with ADAM and you could change it from the ground up. Bigger muscles, more hair, bigger breasts, a bigger pecker, just about anything in the ball park genetically speaking could be changed and altered.   
  
Sure, there were a few side effects, those… little marks, lumps and bumps, but what miracle cure didn’t come at a slight cost? ADAM wasn’t the only wonder drug out there which had side effects, even the medicine they used now had side effects. Bleeding of the stomach, paranoia, skin allergies and so on, it wasn’t just the ADAM.   
  
Once Fontaine Futuristics was officially opened he’d be churning out plasmids and tonics in no time.   
  
Fontaine could almost feel the money in his hands right now.   
  
The door lifted and Limey came walking in, she didn’t even cast the guy Reggie was beating up a second glance, just walked straight to Frank carrying a briefcase. Frank was honestly impressed she’d even walked down here in heels, ice coated the floor after all.   
  
“Business is running smoothly,” she said in way of greeting. “Ms Lokken will be working on the Futuristics building next week, setting up what equipment we need and Tenenbaum and Suchong wanted me to tell you that… the little issue has been sorted.”   
  
“Ya mean the thing in the special… unit? That thing?”  
  
“Yes. It’s been… taken care of.”   
  
Frank shuddered a moment as he remembered the hulking mass of human flesh and organs that had been stuck to a wall. He wasn’t a saint but… those two Docs hadn’t even flinched. Hell Suchong even looked amused by the whole thing. Fontaine was a bastard, but there were no kind words to describe those two neither.   
  
“Good,” he mumbled looking at the floor. “Never want to see a thing like that again.”   
  
“You’re in science now, Francis… you may be seeing more.. failed projects. I suggest you get used to it.”   
  
“If they make more things like that, Limey, then this little project is over and done with,” he snarled. “I ain’t being connected to results like….” Fontaine swallowed uneasily. “Results like that. Jesus Christ.”   
  
“Yes, that really was a disaster…”   
  
Frank stared at her for a very long time. It was moments like this when Limey did scare Frank, still scared him even though he wasn’t a little runt anymore. The coldness. Sure, he got it, it was distance and he did it himself but Limey took it to a whole new level.   
  
Though, he supposed she hadn’t been there to see the hulking mass, perhaps if she had been, her reaction would be a little different. She hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t understand. No one would.   
  
Still if Em would be starting to work on the Futuristics building next week, then she’d meet Suchong and Tenenbaum and wouldn’t that be an introduction Fontaine wouldn’t want to miss. He already had a feeling that Em and Suchong wouldn’t get along, but Suchong didn’t seem to get along with anyone unless they were a test subject. Same with that Tenenbaum, though at least Brigid was easier on the eyes.   
  
She’d made more of an effort when they had their meeting to discuss contracts and Frank would admit she wasn’t a bad looking dame. Pity she didn’t take good care of herself, but looks weren’t everything. She was sassy, in her own way, not fiery like Ms Em was, no, Tenenbaum was cold, but it didn’t mean it didn’t work.   
  
Damn, two women and just him, how was a guy to choose?   
  
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone sweet on that scientist already?”   
  
“Wha-?”   
  
“You were smiling,” Limey pointed out. “Ms Lokken or Doctor Tenenbaum?”   
  
Frank shrugged, throwing her a grin. “Why not both?”   
  
Limey did not look impressed, her face twisted and she rolled her eyes. “You always pick the clever ones.”  
  
“That a problem?”  
  
“It could be. If they start-.”   
  
“Tenenbaum made the thing that almost cost me my lunch and didn’t flinch,” Frank said. “And Ms Em knows we do this,” he gestured to Reggie and his current punching bag. “She didn’t even flinch. They don’t care. They won’t rat us out.”   
  
“Ms Lokken cares,” Limey said softly. “She just… hides it.”   
  
Frank doubted that. You didn’t just shrug off someone being beaten up if you actually cared or at least you didn’t shrug it off as easily as Em did. She didn’t care, she didn’t care at all, because she couldn’t afford to. That was something Fontaine could use to his advantage, for now at least.   
  
Though, Limey was right about one thing, he always went for the smart ones. There was just something more entertaining about it. Like his sterling conversations with Ms Em. They’d calm down now, seemed to have reached a mutual understanding so the biting words were almost friendly. Almost. He knew she didn’t like him, she didn’t trust him either and he’d respect that. Got a good head on her shoulders, but he didn’t think he was exclusively the only person she didn’t trust.   
  
One thing Em was without a shadow of a doubt, was verbal. If she didn’t like you, she’d tell you or her tone would indicate as such. So far, he’d worked out she didn’t like this Lamb woman, didn’t like Ryan and didn’t like him. Sinclair was in a ground that she wasn’t too sure where to put him, but she wasn’t a big fan of him either.   
  
Fontaine had made a comment about her having an issue with authority, he’d received a string of curses and had a wrench threatened to be thrown at his head.   
  
Em was entertaining, that was for damn sure. He’d smiled and wondered off, he didn’t doubt for a second she wouldn’t of done it in the end.   
  
With Tenenbaum and Suchong he had to be more businesslike and complimentary to appeal to their egos, but with Em he could mess with her a great deal more and just watch the chaos afterwards.   
  
“She doesn’t care, Limes,” he insisted, straightening out his clothes. “Alright Reg, that’s enough. Think he’s gotten the message, cut him loose…” he turned and paused a second. “Although… why waste a good thing? Take him to Suchong and Tenenbaum, that’ll brighten their day.”   
  
“Sure thing, boss.”   
  
“Limey, would you schedule Ms Lokken to go work on the department store tomorrow, there’s an air vent that needs fixing.”   
  
“Yes, Francis.”   
  
“Then we’re in business.”

* * *

  
Doctor Yi Suchong looked over the latest failed test subject, submerged in a tank of water, dressed in a diving suit. The filter on his helmet hadn’t worked and the man had drowned after they left him submerged over night. He knew he needed a different solution, the diving suits themselves weren’t enough.   
  
They’d recently commissioned some alternate suites being made, but the test subjects in the current suites they were using either grew uncomfortable or would slip out of the suits and die. Prolonged exposure to high pressure water or they’d simply drown. At one point they’d taken water directly out of the sea that surrounded them and the way their skin reacted was certainly not desirable. Burns and rashes, allergic reactions, something was definitely wrong with the water surrounding the city. Probably their own meddling with the natural environment.   
  
Suchong had a theory that their meddling with the natural order of things had created the ADAM slugs. Yes, perhaps the slugs had existed before, but the chemicals they’d been pumping into the sea had somehow mutated them. Caused a biological reaction, a biological mutation and then the ADAM was created. Secreted out of these creatures in their bites or even the glowing orbs on their backs.   
  
Tenenbaum was fiddling with some of the chemical compounds they’d been using to try and calm the test subjects. So many had sickened and died, even more than those they’d used for ADAM testing. Though the ADAM subjects were going better then these ones were. After all, if something went wrong during experimentation, simply inject ADAM into the subject and they’d heal.   
  
No such luck here, even ADAM couldn’t cure death, yet that is. Suchong had a theory, in the end they’d be able to stop people from dying. Maybe find the secret to eternal life.   
  
It really all was possible with ADAM and Plasmids were the next step. Really pushing the human body to it’s limits and seeing just what was possible and how much you could alter in a person.   
  
“This one die also,” Suchong spoke, looking very disappointed. His tone of voice was almost scolding the corpse which had dared to die. “Disappointing. Perhaps new suits will prove better?”   
  
Tenenbaum made a non committed grunt, still focusing on her own work at the chemicals.   
  
Suchong went back over his notes, glancing at the dead man in the tank.   
  
Suchong wasn’t sure where Ryan was getting these test subjects, but they were infrequent. Though the man had promised that soon there would be an endless supply of test subjects. Something to do with that Sinclair man, Suchong wasn’t sure. He’d stopped listening after a while.   
  
Ryan, Suchong found, did tend to go on and on a bit. Not in the same way as Fontaine did. When Fontaine spoke, you listened, because everything he said had a purpose. He also did not mince his words and would say it exactly as it was.   
  
Fontaine wanted Plasmids and no more failed test subjects. Simple request, simple solution. No more mixing of animal DNA with human DNA. Very simple rule to follow, everything else was possible and no other rule to follow.   
  
“Perhaps,” Suchong began going over his notes. “It would be better if man could not leave suit?”   
  
Tenenbaum finally turned around, giving him her full attention. “Trap them in suit? Not possible, current suits are useless.”   
  
“Yes, yes. New ones, we’ll try it once we have the new ones… but how?” Suchong frowned at his notes. “How we seal man in suit?”   
  
“We would also need to make it so man would not try to get out of suit.”   
  
“Very simple, Suchong will develop mental conditioning. They still function to fix city, but everything else wiped clean,” he paused a second. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up and he seemed to have come to a conclusion. “ADAM! Yes, yes, this could work.”   
  
Tenenbaum stepped closer, almost robotic in her movement, but Suchong had rather gotten used to her inhuman like movements. They’d been working in close quarters for a long time now. At fist she had just been a lab assistant in this project, but Suchong finally saw her real talent when dealing with ADAM.   
  
Indeed, even Suchong had been impressed by Tenenbaum’s skill with gene sequences. Her real talent was there, an all time diamond in the rough, not that Suchong would ever tell her this.   
  
“You see?” He gestured to his notes. “All die due to usual problems with long exposure to high pressure water. Drowning, pressure sickness and so on, but what if we were to take away outside elements? They no longer wear suit, but become suit.”   
  
“You’re thinking of making them part of the suit?”   
  
“Yes, we can use ADAM to skin graft them in. Use ADAM to splice them up stronger and more resistant to dangers of the sea and skin graft them in suit for easier movement.”   
  
Tenenbaum nodded along in understanding. “ADAM would allow this, yes, but…. Fontaine owns ADAM,” she reminded him. “He will not be happy with us using it on Ryan’s project.”   
  
“Maybe not now, but Suchong think if we are patient… if we wait for Plasmids to be released, then Ryan will be looking to buy ADAM. We sell Plasmids first and make these… metal men second.”   
  
Tenenbaum offered one of her odd little smiles. “Then Fontaine will be happy because he has something Ryan needs and will be forced to buy. You and I needn’t worry about… negative feedback.”   
  
Suchong, for once, offered her his own little smile. “Precisely.”   
  
The two scientists returned back to their work, both smiles had left their faces and they returned to their almost robotic movement. Tinkering away with the various equipment and instruments, but neither speaking to each other unless they had to.   
  
Soon, Fontaine Futuristics would be opened and they’d have a bigger lab to work in, more than one. Also have more workers, so it wouldn’t just be the two of them anymore, but for that they needed to release the first line of plasmids and tonics. Mister Fontaine had been very keen on releasing them as soon as he could and with the main building almost finished, well it was safe to say he was confident in their skills.   
  
It was an odd place, to put the building, in the older side of Rapture, south of the city. You could see it, Suchong and Tenenbaum had both gone looking for it after all and it did look like a big building. Fontaine had even mentioned that some of the lab was being built into the sea bed.   
  
Everything was working out just the way it should be and ADAM was the key. Soon, everything would be falling into place and if they had to sacrifice a few people on the way, well so be it. Suchong had yet to hear of any scientific breakthrough being achieved without some sort of human sacrifice and if they claimed they had, well they were very much lying.   
  
ADAM was the key. ADAM had changed everything and would continue to change it, from the ground up. They would rebuild Rapture from the ground up and ADAM would help them do it. The city, Suchong was certain of, would change for the better and it was all thanks to ADAM.

* * *

  
_Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Plasmids are the paint:_   
  
_Tenenbaum… sometimes I pity the little freak. Such a tiny imagination… Content to sit there with her tanks of ADAM, tweaking and optimising._   
  
_I need to create… ADAM is a canvas of genetic modification… but Plasmids are the paint._


	12. Rumours Are Flying

_Amélie LaLorna,_   
  
_An insult:_   
  
_Cohen. Sometimes I pity the little man. No imagination, no… délicatesse!_   
  
_Believes himself to be everything an artist can be; painter, sculpter, playwright, actor, poet. The list is endless. He’s hardly a painter let alone an actor. Too many hands in too many honey pots, when he hardly has the skill to have a hand in one of them. But… as an actress… to see him prance around on that stage is quite frankly an insult to my craft._   
  
_Ava Tate… peut être une chienne … but at least she has some actual talent._

* * *

  
So, she was back in the department store, Fontaine wanted this air vent fixed and it was a simple job, but Em was dreading it.   
  
She stood in front of said air vent, staring at it like it was the most terrifying thing she could think of. In that moment it was. She still had nightmares of the last time she tried to crawl into an air vent, she was still embarrassed and now there was just her. Em doubted that Fontaine would be at all sympathetic to her doubts and fears.   
  
Em sucked in a breath, placing her tool box on the floor and setting the ladder up. She made sure it was steady before climbing up the ladder, making it about halfway before she froze. Her body locked in place and she shook slightly.   
  
“Ah, get over it…” she bit out, snapping harshly at herself. “It’s… just an air vent. Get over it. Nothing’s going to go wrong,” she started to make it further up the ladder as she continued to mutter to herself. “You’re just overreacting… nothing’s going to happen…”   
  
She finally reached the air vent’s entrance, pulling her torch from her belt, she shined the light inside. It reflected off the steel walls and then her eyes landed on a pair of brown eyes staring back at her.   
  
Em yelped and fell off the ladder, hitting the ground hard. She groaned and lay there for a moment, before getting to her feet, torch in hand and climbing the ladder again.   
  
This time she was more prepared and found that the pair of brown eyes staring at her belonged to a little boy. He was tiny, smallest little thing she’d ever seen. He hadn’t been eating, couldn’t be that much older than three or four tops.   
  
What the hell was he doing up here?   
  
“Hey there,” she said softly, the child didn’t move, only stared at her.   
  
Em hadn’t ever really interacted with kids much. None of her friends hands kids and her job certainly wasn’t a place where kids would be, but here was this tiny little boy in an air vent and she was the only one around to deal with him.   
  
Honestly his size worried her, she’d never seen a kid so skinny, he hadn’t been eating well. Poor thing was probably terrified of her. The adults of Rapture were not kind to orphans, it was heartbreaking. Not like the kids asked to be here, but they couldn’t even leave, so they were stuck. Most lived in the drop or hid away and they didn’t trust adults, which was probably for the best.   
  
The boy, however, was in her way. She couldn’t fix the vent with him inside and she didn’t want to leave him in there, it wouldn’t be right, but where was he meant to go then? He was an orphan, she could tell by his tattered clothes, he had no where to go. There wasn’t an orphanage in Rapture and Andrew Ryan was against charity of any kind.   
  
“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to come out of here,” she said gently reaching out for him, but quickly retracted her hand as he backed away fearfully. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured, holding her hand up. “I’m not gonna hurt you, but you can’t stay in here. I need to work on the vent and it’s not safe for you.”   
  
He only stared at her and Em was at a loss of what to do.   
  
He was obviously scared of her, he wouldn’t come near her, so she was probably going to have to coax him out. How, she wasn’t too sure. What did kids like? Toys and stuff like that, well she obviously didn’t carry toys around with her.   
  
Food… chocolate? Now that she did have.   
  
Em quickly climbed down the ladder to her tool box, flipping it open and finding her pep bar she’d taken as a small snack on the job.   
  
Climbing back up the ladder, she was relieved to find the little boy hadn’t moved and held the wrapper up for him to see.   
  
“You know what these are, yeah?”   
  
He gave a little nod and she sent him a soft smile.   
  
“Yeah, good old pep bars… they’re my favourite,” Em undid the wrapper and snapped the bar in half. “Would you like some?”   
  
He gave a little nod again and Em placed the end of the bar in the wrapper on the floor of the vent, away from her.   
  
“There you go,” she encouraged, taking a little bite out of her half. “Mmm! It’s real good, you wanna have your piece honey?”   
  
She watched as he slowly reached for the wrapper, picking up the chocolate bar and nibbling at it, still watching her while she finished off her own half.   
  
“You like it huh?”   
  
Again, he nodded and she smiled.   
  
“Sweetheart, you’re gonna need to come out of the vent…” she trailed off as the boy backed away from her. “You’re scared aren’t you?”   
  
His eyes briefly met hers before looking away again.   
  
“I understand that,” Em said softly, smiling gently at him. “It’s pretty scary place out here huh? People aren’t too nice neither, right?”   
  
He looked unsure if he should answer her truthfully, but ended up nodding his head anyway. He looked so scared, but he seemed to be calming down a little bit, now he knew Em wasn’t going to hurt him. Though, that didn’t really count for much since he still had however long he’d been living in the vents and dealing with the bastards of Rapture ingrained into his brain.   
  
“Hey, you wanna be brave?” She smiled at him and he perked his head up to stare at her. “Cause I sure can’t be, I’m scared out here too. These people aren’t very nice to me either. So… why don’t we be brave together, yeah?” She held her hand out to him. “I’ll buy you some lunch too if you like?”  
  
“You will?”   
  
Her eyebrows raised in surprise when he spoke, she honestly wasn’t expecting him to speak to her or even know how to speak for that matter. Still, he had spoken and he sounded so unsure but also hopeful.   
  
Em nodded. “Yeah I will, biggest plate of food you’d ever seen. Bowl of chips… as big as my toolbox or you know, just about.   
  
He giggled slightly and she smiled back. There was something nice about children’s laughter, it always sounded so happy and carefree, like nothing could ever bother them. God she missed being that free, that full of life. Of course things were tough, but it was the little things that mattered, not the hardships. Too many people would focus on those and yes she was guilty of the same thing at times. She imagined everyone was at some point in their life.   
  
Still, this little boy, who’d probably faced more hardships in his young life than he ever should have to, still, even now, had the ability to laugh. That was truly amazing and showed strength.   
  
Not many people viewed happiness as a strength, most saw it as a weakness, but in truth if you could work out of a bad situation and laugh about it afterwards? Well, that was real strength. That showed more about you than the situation itself.   
  
Slowly the little boy crawled over to her, taking her hand and she helped him out of the vent. Em had to carry him down the rest of the way, gently rubbing his back to comfort him, all the while he clung to her like a lifeline.   
  
“Shh, shh… it’s okay, I got you…” she said softly. “I’ve got you… you’re safe… here,” Em reached down and picked up her jacket, gently setting him down on the floor, kneeling in front of him. “Come on, slip your arms through here,” she guided his arms through the sleeves of her old leather jacket. It was a fliers jacket, given to her by one of the British pilots. She’d kept it ever since, but didn’t wear it often. It brought back too many memories.   
  
“There we are,” she smiled, pulling the jacket closely around him. “A little warmer right?”   
  
He smiled, nodding his head. In the light she could see him better and she had been right, he was a small boy, hair a mess of blonde curls and waves, pale and a dusting of freckles were sprinkled across his cheeks and nose. Soft brown eyes stared up at her through the mess of blonde curls, blinking and studying her.   
  
She stood up, smiling at him and he smiled softly back at her, before quickly clinging to her leg as a sound of a door slamming open made them both jump.   
  
“Hey it’s okay, It’s okay…” she assured him, brushing some of his soft blonde curls away from his face. “It’s alright, it was just a door opening.”   
  
The child looked unsure and hid behind her legs as the door to the room they were in opened and in stepped Fontaine and his body guard Reggie. Of course, now would be the time they’d show up.   
  
“And just why the hell are you not in that damn air vent?” He snarled and she felt the boy behind her flinch at the volume.   
  
“I- look would you lower your voice a minute I-.”   
  
“The hell did you just say?”  
  
“Mister Fontaine, please just let me explain-.”   
  
“Better be a damn good explanation-“   
  
“Frank, shut up!” She yelled and he looked taken aback. Em felt the boy flinch at her voice and winced slightly, before returning her attention to Fontaine. “Just listen a second, would ya?”   
  
“Like hell! Just who do you think you are, talking back to me like-!” He snapped his mouth shut. He shut it so quickly she was certain that his teeth had clacked together.  
  
He wasn’t looking at her though, his eyes were trained on the little boy next to her leg, who had peeked out from behind her, only so you could see his face. Frank was staring at him, so was Reggie now the bruiser had noticed him.   
  
“I found him in the vent, he’s really scared okay? Keep your voice down,” Em reached down for the tiny blonde boy and offered a comforting smile. “Come on, it’s okay, he’s not going to hurt you,” she assured and slowly the little boy stepped out from behind her, still clinging to her legs. “See?” She placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Poor little tyke was stuck in the air vent all alone… I found him, he’s awful scared so-.”   
  
“Get that kid out of here and have the rest of the day off.”   
  
Emilie blinked, finally looking at Fontaine, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was still looking at the kid. So was Reggie and they both looked as pale as each other, she’d even go so far as to say they were spooked or suffering from a severe case of DaJa Vu.   
  
“I- I’m sorry?”   
  
Frank managed to tear his eyes away from the kid, who she noted was equally staring at him with wide curious eyes and finally he looked at her. Frank’s own brown eyes were boring into her green, almost imploring her not to argue and just do as he said, but this wasn’t like all the other times. There was no coldness, no harshness to his look, just utter desperation and almost… well she hesitated to call it fear, but it was close.   
  
“I said, take the kid and leave. Don’t come back till tomorrow and work on the Futuristics building. I’ll have some other mug deal with the ventilation here, but take the brat and get going.”   
  
“He’s not a brat, he’s just a little boy-.”   
  
“I don’t care!” He snapped, wincing slightly as the boy ducked behind her legs again, peering out with one eye. “Just take him away, go home. He’s yours now, after all.”   
  
“Mine?!” Em spluttered. She could barely look after herself, how the hell was she supposed to look after a tiny person? “You can’t be serious, I-,” she looked down the little boy who stared back at her with wide brown eyes behind blonde curls and felt something she’d never felt before.   
  
Care, she felt a need to protect the little boy, almost like an instinct… parental instinct? Was it- did it really hit so quickly?   
  
“Yeah….” Em felt herself saying. “You’re right, he’s my kid,” she knelt down and picked him up, grabbing her tool box on the way. “I’ll see in the morning, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
She didn’t know what she was doing. She was going to have to re-decorate her apartment, clean it out and make it more child friendly. The alcohol was going to have to go, all of it, she couldn’t afford being drunk. Might mean she smokes more, but that was better than being drunk.   
  
Also needed to know the tykes name, feed him, run a bath for him and buy clothes. Then there was school and teaching him simple and basic things like reading and writing. God there was so much to do and none of it would come cheap, thank god she had some money saved.   
  
Em grimaced at the idea of still living in the drop and frowned as that idea then followed up with living in the drop with a kid to look after too. She’d just have to save up for some better places, now she was working for Fontaine part time, it might not take too long. He paid well, better than Ryan, which had surprised her, but part of her suspected that was just to keep her around.   
  
First thing first, she needed to get some good food into this kid so he’d put some weight on. Maybe while they were at the dinar she could call Kelly and ask her to pick up some clothes.   
  
One thing she was certain of, however, as she walked through the crowded department store carrying the little boy. He was her kid and so long as she was around, no one was touching her kid.

* * *

  
Amélie LaLorna was certainly not your typical woman. She didn’t think so at least.   
  
If you asked LaLorna herself, she thought she was the greatest French actress to ever live, she lived and breathed the stage. It was her life and no one would tell her otherwise.   
  
They certainly did tell her, but she didn’t take any notice of them. What did the little people know after all? They just spent their days fawning over Sander Cohen and how fantastically brilliant his work was. No matter how boring and predictable his work was. In short, Cohen was a hack. A hack that Ryan for some reason held in high esteem.  
  
Andrew Ryan supported Cohen and that was a quick way to get you to the stars. To be held above the rest of them.   
  
Amélie herself had not been chosen, she did not get support from the founder of Rapture and this she found to be an outrage. She was twice the actress, three times the star Cohen was. He had no right to ignore her, to act like she wasn’t there or act like she didn’t exist. She was the greatest actress, Cohen was nothing, Ava Tate was nothing, she was everything.   
  
Sitting in Fort Frolic, brunette hair elegantly pulled round so it cascaded over one shoulder, ivory cigarette holder in one hand, sleek green satin evening dress flowing over her. Amélie was always dressed like she was going to a high end evening party, never once would you see her in relaxed or day wear. People said she was trying too hard, but little people didn’t understand that an actress was always an actress and never a commoner like them.   
  
Taking a drag from her ivory holder, blowing the smoke elegantly out of the corner of her mouth, she looked over at all the other patrons.   
  
Cohen was right about one thing, these people were louts. They were boring and predictable. Almost always they wore the same outfits and acted out the same boring cliches.   
  
Speaking of, here was that little Cameal, the little ballerina who was so nervous and skittish, she was an insult to any and all dancers. Where was the passion? The fire?   
  
Cameal was a sweet looking woman and always seemed so damn honest and genuine, it rather got up LaLorna’s nose. No one could really be that good or pure or even that honest. It was all a front she was sure of it, but if it wasn’t then Cameal was really a weak little thing. The pale pinks she often wore only enhanced the look of a pure and honest little girl. It suited her personality.   
  
Many would gush about how brilliant Cameal was at dancing, but LaLorna couldn’t see it. So what if she just pranced around that little stage, dancing on her tip toes and decked out in ribbons and bows? She didn’t have drive like LaLorna did, she didn’t have the passion, it was all so wish wash and yet Cameal had managed to gain several entries on the front page.   
  
LaLorna had never been showcased on the front page, in fact she’d never been showcased in the newspaper at all. Those pencil pusher writers just didn’t know real talent when they saw it, that was the only obvious explanation, especially if a hack like Cohen could still get spotlighted on the front page.   
  
“Well, just what do we have here?” LaLorna spoke, her French accent was thick and filled with mirth. One thing she was, was petty. She always had been and she enjoyed messing with other people. Putting them in place. “Should you really be around here, little ballerina? It’s not really the type of place for someone as innocent as you.”   
  
Cameal blinked up at her, before looking at the floor with a blush on her face. “You don’t… you don’t own this place, LaLorna.”   
  
“You don’t fit in, haven’t you ever noticed this?” She smirked. “You’re really are below the bar.”   
  
Cameal scrunched her face up, glaring up at her. There was a new kind of fire in her eyes now, something LaLorna had never seen before. “The only person who doesn’t fit in is you!” She accused, crossing her arms and pouting. “You’re horrible and cruel. No one likes you, LaLorna, have you ever wondered why?”   
  
“You say that like people like you?”   
  
“Cammie!”   
  
LaLorna jumped slightly as another woman with mousy brown hair came running over, quickly hooking her arm with Cameal’s. Then this new woman was glaring at LaLorna hotly, gritting her teeth. She recognised this woman, she owned the dress shop and would often fix the show dresses. LaLorna herself had dealings with her too, she was very good at her job and fixed one of her dresses. She’d left no seam, like the dress had never been damaged in the first place.   
  
“Can I help you, LaLorna?” She hissed.   
  
“It’s okay, Sarah,” Cameal spoke, gently placing her hand on this Sarah’s hand, offering a soft smile. “I was just waiting for you. Come on, I don’t think this place is quite up to our standards,” her gaze fell on LaLorna as she said. “There’s an awful stink in here.”   
  
She was shocked. Never in all her years had someone spoke to her like that. Ever. They knew better, they knew they couldn’t talk to her like that. It was an outrage.   
  
“You- You can’t speak to me like that!” She cried outraged.   
  
“Evidently,” Sarah called behind her as she and Cameal left. “We can.”

* * *

  
This was crazy, she was in shock about the whole thing, carrying this tiny little boy through the many corridors and halls of Rapture, heading to the Sinclair Deluxe.   
  
Em had managed to call Kelly and Opal to help get some things for the boy, Rosa was also coming to check over the boy to make sure he was healthy. God knows how long he’d been hiding away in the ventilation system of Rapture.   
  
“Almost home now…” she said softly, walking up the rickety stairs of the Deluxe.   
  
She got a few odd looks, obviously they weren’t expecting her to be carrying a small child with her. She was a loner for the most part, barely interacting with anyone in the Drop, simply because she didn’t trust them. The Drop was filled with desperate people who would sooner stab each other in the back than actually help each other. It was sad really. How quick human beings were to turn on each other, given the right circumstances.   
  
“Here we are,” she said softly, reaching the door and struggling with the keys. It was hard to do it when she had both hands, but even more difficult when she was carry a child too. She supposed she’d have to get used to it, the little boy wasn’t going anywhere.   
  
As she fiddled with her keys, she heard heels clacking against the floor. Thinking it was Kelly she turned with a smile but it quickly fell when she found Sofia Lamb standing at the end of the hall.   
  
Lamb was watching her, studying her with sharp, cold, blue eyes. It made Em feel uneasy and like a bug in a jar or a puzzle Lamb was figuring out. She didn’t trust the limey shrink, not one little bit. She’d heard that Cameal was seeing her and indeed the dancer had spoke highly of the Doctor, practically praised her over and over. Em didn’t believe it, not for a second, too many people went in one way and came out different, and she wasn’t even certain it was a good different either.   
  
Finally the lock flicked back and she was able to open the door, practically having to shove it open since it was stiff. She needed to oil it but just hadn’t found the time. Well, now she had this little boy with her, she’d have to. Couldn’t have him trapped in the house unable to get out. What if there was a fire or the power went out and he was all alone in the dark?   
  
She paused a second.   
  
Honestly it was scary how quickly she’d switched to parenting mode, she only just found the tyke today and already she was panicking and fretting over his well being.   
  
“Okay, here we go,” she placed her toolbox down, using her free hand to slide the door shut before wandering over the lumpy sofa and setting the little boy down. “So… this is my home.. I um…” how did you talk to kids again? Em knelt down so she was level with him. “I’ll set you up a room, maybe put up a curtain to separate your room with the rest of the apartment like mine is,” she smiled softly at him. “You still hungry?”   
  
“No…”   
  
“Okay, that’s good, but you tell me when you get hungry okay?”   
  
“O-kay.”   
  
“I’ve got some friends coming over,” she said softly. “They’re going to be bringing you some more clothes, maybe a few toys… one of my friends is a nurse and she’s going to make sure you’re well.” Em bit her lip, looking at the floor and deciding this was probably a lot of information to be putting on a four or five year old. “I’m Emilie, but you can call me Em.”   
  
“Em,” the little boy repeated softly, looking up brightly a big beaming smile was on his face. “Mama Em!”   
  
“Ah,” Em blinked suddenly feeling very out of her depth.   
  
Sure she saw the kid as her’s, she wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him and she’d give him the best she could. She’d just not expected him to warm up to her so quickly. He was still cautious and did everything carefully, but he seemed to trust her.   
  
Kids were funny like that, she supposed.   
  
“Clayton.”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
He pointed at himself. “I’m Clayton.”   
  
“Clayton…” she repeated it and smiled. “That’s a lovely name.”   
  
“I like your name too, Mama Em.”   
  
Em laughed softly, standing up and brushing her trousers down. “I’m just gonna start running you a bath okay? May take a while the heating doesn’t always… ah, kick in. It’ll warm you up and make you nice and clean, hopefully my friends will have the clothes for you.”   
  
He smiled at her, a big beaming smile that clearly said I have no idea what you’re saying but I’m happy. That was the thing with kids, they just accepted what you told them, just nodded and said okay. Em wasn’t around kids often, not that she didn’t like them, she just didn’t know any kids.   
  
Now she had one of her own though, she supposed she’d have to get used to talking to children. Clayton would make friends once she got him enrolled at one of the many schools in Rapture. She’d have to look in to those soon, so she could decide what was the best that she could afford.   
  
There was that new one in the department store, wasn’t there? She’d heard good things about it, but it was wether she could afford to send Clayton there.   
  
Still, she wasn’t too keen on sending him away to school just yet, she could teach him for now. He was scared of people as a whole, trusted her because she’d been nice and quiet. She hadn’t yelled at him, not like Fontaine had.   
  
Thinking of Fontaine, Em frowned while she ran the bath for the kid.   
  
Fontaine hadn’t reacted how she’d expected him to. He’d almost been scared of the kid, hell he’d looked more scared of Clayton than Clayton was of him. It was weird. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it and then Reggie being as pale as a sheet as well. Just weird.   
  
Em tested the water and thank god for small mercies, it was actually nice and warm.   
  
“Clayton, honey, could you come here please,” she called, while grabbing a towel from the cupboard and grabbing some soap.   
  
“Mama Em?”   
  
Emilie yelped and jumped a little at the sudden voice. She was so used to this apartment being quiet and just being her, it was weird to have someone else. Clayton was also so quiet it didn’t really feel like it had changed all that much.   
  
Clayton stood in the doorway, still wearing the jacket she’d wrapped him up in, the sleeves were too long for his arms and came down over his hands, making them flop at the end. The jacket as a whole was too big for him, but he looked rather sweet decked out in it.   
  
“Your bath’s ready sweetheart,” she assured. “Here, let me help you with the jacket, I’ll let you wash up yourself,” she carefully helped him slip out of the jacket, folding it over her arm. “Right, okay so you take everything off once I’m out of the room and you get in the tub, okay? Then you take this,” she picked up the soap. “And you scrub it all over, behind ya ears, you name it,” she paused a second before adding. “Don’t get any in your mouth because it’s bad for you and it doesn’t taste very nice. Also careful not to get it in your eyes because it’ll sting. If you need any help just shout, okay?”   
  
He blinked up at her and nodded slowly. He looked unsure and she supposed when she was his age she never bathed by herself, her father had always helped her. It was only when she was six or seven that she started to do it by herself.   
  
Still, she wasn’t sure how to act quite yet, she only just found him today, probably best to let him decide when he wanted help.   
  
She left the bathroom and gently closed the door, leaving it ajar so she could hear him.   
  
Em busied herself by putting away her clothes and clearing a space in the living room to make for Clayton’s bed. She grabbed some sofa cushions and piled them into a makeshift bed, before grabbing a few spare blankets. It was all she had for tonight, she’d go shopping for some bedding and a bed tomorrow, maybe some paint too, try and brighten up the walls.   
  
Next she grabbed the alcohol, she could hear Clayton splashing around in the tub and sometimes giggling, making her smile. Carefully she unscrewed the lids and poured all the alcohol down the sink, blocking her nose so she wouldn’t smell it. Alcohol was expensive and she couldn’t help but feel a little like she was just pouring her money down the drain, but she couldn’t drink. She knew what she got like drunk and that was no way to raise a child.   
  
She needed to get better, hell Em knew she needed to get better a long time ago, but she’d never felt the drive. Could be that finding Clayton was the kick she needed to actually start doing something with herself. Actually work to making herself better and not depending on a liquid.   
  
She’d get the shakes, she knew she would, Daniel was the same after all. He’d stopped drinking since going out with Opal, had really cleaned up his act, it was good to see.   
  
Now it was Em’s turn. She had a child now and she was going to be the best mother could be to this little boy.   
  
A knock at the door startled her and she opened it, only to find Kelly and Opal standing behind it, both carrying bags of clothing, two bags each.   
  
“So what? You’re taking in children now?”   
  
“How much did you get?” Em gaped. “I won’t be able to pay you both back for all of this. Not all at once.”   
  
“Well, these are the clothes,” Kelly said. “We got stuff for all occasions, I even got him a little tux since there could be a wedding soon,” she gave Opal a pointed look.   
  
The singer ignored her and instead said. “I’ve also got clothes and Daniel is bringing up some toys for the kid, we even grabbed him some blankets. Daniel might of roped Bill and Kyburz into getting him some furniture, you know, like a bed?”   
  
“I was going to get those tomorrow.”   
  
“Yes, well now you’ll have it tonight,” they placed the bags down on the sofa. “Oh and I believe Eileen, Bill’s wife, is insisting on them buying a rocking horse, so you might have one of those too… just as a warning.”   
  
Em opened and closed her mouth several times. She was stunned, she knew she had good friends but this was something else.   
  
“I can’t pay for all this,” she said. “I don’t have all the money saved… I.. I can’t even pay you back for all the clothes you’ve got.”   
  
“Then pay us back for the stuff you can and consider the rest gifts,” Kelly grinned at her. “Honey, you’re the first one of us to have a kid. Sure you didn’t squeeze the little blighter out between ya legs,” Em face palmed, but Kelly went on. “But you’ve got a child. I’m an aunt, of course I’m going to spoil him rotten!”  
  
“Crazy aunt, is what you are.”   
  
“Well one of us had gotta be,” she grinned.   
  
Opal laughed shaking her head. “We also weren’t sure on how big he was, but you said he was small so… we have a few different sizes,” she glanced around the room. “Where is the little tyke?”   
  
“He’s having a bath.”   
  
“Em, you can’t leave a four year old on their own to bathe!” Kelly cried.   
  
“He… seemed okay, I told him to shout me if he needed help,” she rubbed her eyes gesturing to the door. “I found him in an air vent Kells, he’s not that fond of people or that trusting of them. Can’t say I blame him.”   
  
“Well, look at that, you have something in common already.”   
  
Em rested her hands on her hips and pouted slightly. She rested that remark, it wasn’t that she didn’t like people, she just didn’t trust them much. People hadn’t given her much reason to trust them either.   
  
“Look he’s had a rough time of it, keep your voices down. He’s not too fond of loud noises,” she rubbed at her temples already feeling a headache beginning to set in. “Didn’t help that the second person he met was Fontaine. Jesus- that man just grinds my gears.”   
  
“I thought you two had reached an understanding?”   
  
“We have, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”   
  
“Mama Em!”   
  
Em went wide eyed and quickly darted into the bathroom calling for Clayton and asking if he was okay, leaving Kelly and Opal blinking in surprise.   
  
They looked at each other and Kelly rose an eyebrow at the singer in question.   
  
“I think that’s the quickest I’ve ever seen her move.”   
  
“Taken to it like a duck to water…”   
  
They jumped as Daniel stumbled in to the still open door, slumping over with two heavy looking bags of toys.   
  
Opal looked concerned. “Honey are you okay?”   
  
Daniel took a few deep breaths, gesturing wildly with his hand in the direction of the staircase.   
  
“That was a lot of stairs.... Oh boy… I think I’m… just gonna collapse here a second… Jesus, that was a lot of stairs…”   
  
Kelly grinned impishly, her face dimpling up in the process. “Oh don’t look so down, Daniel… think how much fun Kyburz and Bill are gonna have bringing up a bed?”   
  
“Not to mention a rocking horse,” Opal chimed in.   
  
Daniel paused in his heavy breathing, looking up at the two women and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned right back.   
  
It had been quite the task getting those items up, Kelly was busy entertaining Clayton or more entertaining herself as she made sure the boy fit all the clothes they got. Em constantly battered at her complaining that he wasn’t a doll, but she waved her off.   
  
Em went back to fixing up the bed and the rocking horse, arguing a little with Kyburz and Daniel, Bill just stood back and watched finding it all very funny.   
  
Eventually they were able to come to an agreement and the bed was made without further incident, Clayton was now playing with his new toys. Kelly was busy folding up the clothes and putting the ones that fit away, putting the ones that didn’t fit back in a bag. She mentioned maybe reselling them cheap down in the Drop so others could use them and left shortly after.   
  
Bill left soon after that, saying he needed to open his Tavern up for the evening, Rosa arrived just as he left.   
  
Clayton was still playing with his toys, he seemed nervous of Rosa, hell he’d been nervous of everyone, but once Em assured him he was safe he calmed down. Rosa though set some sort of fear off and the adults worked out it was because of the nurses uniform, which made Em wonder just what the hell had happened to make him so scared.  
  
She didn’t ask him, instead sat him down on her knees so he felt safe while Rosa checked him over, Kyburz and Daniel making dinner in the kitchen while Opal put the unused toys away and made the bed.   
  
Em could distantly hear Daniel and Kyburz arguing in the kitchen, then Opal, annoyed with their bickering came over and judging by the yelps and the slaps Em heard, she’d whacked them on the back of the heads.   
  
Once all the checks were done and Rosa concluded that Clayton was a healthy little boy, if a bit on the skinny side, he’d need fattening up, the seven of them had all sat for dinner.   
  
They were scattered around the little apartment, Rosa and Opal on the sofa. Clayton sat at the coffee table on a cushion and devoured his food, he even asked for seconds. Meanwhile Em, Kyburz and Daniel sat on the kitchen counter swinging their legs, it honestly reminded her of lunch breaks in Hephestus.   
  
Looking around the room, she was stunned how much had happened in one day, all because of one little boy. It was amazing how quickly her friends had all come together to help out when she needed them. She didn’t remember her home ever being this packed before.   
  
Eventually Rosa, Opal and Daniel left, saying they’d check on Em and Clayton tomorrow. Rosa insisted that Em bring Clayton in for a check up in a month time so she could check he was gaining some weight and so he could have a hair cut.   
  
Em sorta liked his wild and wavy hair, it suited him she thought.   
  
Eventually Clayton had fallen asleep on the sofa while Em and Kyburz did the washing up. She smiled softly while drying a plate, gazing on with a tender look.   
  
She’d always wanted a family, if this was hers, she was happy with that. She’d teach the kid to look after himself and she’d protect him without a shadow of a doubt.   
  
Em tore her eyes away from the sleeping boy only to find Kyburz staring at her with an odd look and a little smile on his face.   
  
“What?” Em asked looking amused. “Something on my face?”  
  
“Yeah, a smile,” the Aussie said, putting the knives and forks away.   
  
“You’ve seen me smile before, Kyburz,” she pointed out, putting the plate away.   
  
“Not like that. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that, you’re glowing, Em.”   
  
She snorted and rolled her eyes. She doubted that, but she did feel giddy, happy and elated. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and it was all because of this little boy.   
  
“Shit, Kyburz, I’m a mother!”   
  
“Mother’s can’t use language like that.”   
  
“This mother can, especially when her tyke’s asleep,” she pointed to Clayton on the sofa and her expression shifted to a soft smile. She couldn’t seem to quit her smile.  
  
Stupid grin just wouldn’t leave her face, like it was permanently fixed on and wasn’t about to leave any time soon. She’d never felt this happy in her life, finally felt like everything was falling into place. Her house finally felt like a home to her. She had no plans of staying here long term, but for now it felt perfect.

* * *

  
_Cameal Abigail_   
  
_Not alone:_   
  
_I… I found someone… like me! I can’t… I thought I was the only one, I thought there was something wrong with me or something but no. No it’s not just me. Funny thing… she thought the same thing, that is was just her._   
  
_We’re going out dancing tomorrow night… heh… it’s a date! My first date… that counts. She said she’s got two left feet but.. well I told her not to worry, I’m a dancer, I’ll teach her and it’s not about weather you’re good or not… it’s about the fun and who you’re dancing with._   
  
_She owns a little store… sells clothes, ball gowns and the like. She was fixing one of my dresses that’s how we met and… it’s like we just knew. I never believed in it but… it’s true, there’s a moment where you meet someone and just go.. oh, there you are. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.._


	13. What a Wonderful World

_Peach Wilkins,_  
  
 _Smuggling is a Crime:_  
  
 _This started out as simple. Take Fontaine’s mini sub back topside twice a week, pick up some choice goods not available in a remote place like Rapture, you know: beef, real tobacco, just a little extras. But now, Ryan and his type have up and called smuggling a hanging crime._ Hanging? _Says any connection to the surface could destroy the city._  
  
 _‘Fore long, only difference between this place and topside is whether or not you can open up the damn windows!_

* * *

  
Kyburz winced as the second man this week was hung in Apollo Square. Neck broken in the drop, limbs that had once carried heavy boxes, maybe even carried a son or a daughter at some point, now hung limp and still. They’d never move again, never carry another box or carry their child, never be able to wrap around their wife or a lover. It was a sad fate for anyone, but these people, well Kyburz felt a little like they didn’t have much of a choice.  
  
Ryan had decreed that smuggling was a hanging crime, Persephone was now up and running and starting to be filled up with unfortunate souls caught by Ryan’s security.  
  
The lucky ones, if you could call them that, were sent to rot in that place while they were slowly rehabilitated, while the unlucky ones were sent to the hangman’s noose.  
  
There was something awfully unsettling about that hangman. He seemed to enjoy it, like he took some sort of sick sadistic pleasure out of it, even though he was taking someone’s life. It was twisted, the whole thing was twisted and wrong. Kyburz only had to wonder when it would end? When all the smugglers were caught? That’s what Ryan had promised.

As if on cue to his doubts the Rapture PA system sprung to life and the propaganda that simply spat out bullshit to convince the more gullible sorts that everything was okay came over the intercom. 

_“What’s wrong, Mary? You look like you’ve just heard some terrible news!”_

_“Capital punishment! In Rapture! This isn’t what I signed up for!”_

_“Now hold on there, pretty lady. The only people who face capital punishment in Rapture are smugglers and that’s because they put everything we’ve worked for at risk. Imagine if the Soviets found out about our wonderful city! Or even the U.S. government. Our secrecy is our shield.”_

_“A little capital punishment is a small price to pay to protect all of our freedoms!”_

_“Now you’re talking, Mary!”  
  
_ Kyburz shook his head and sighed slightly under his breath. He couldn't believe that all this was happening. Certainly not in Rapture.   
  
When Ryan had first brought up the idea of hanging in the council, no one could really believe it. That Ryan would even consider such a thing, something that only the people topside had done. Wasn’t the point of Persephone to stop the hanging? To help these people?  
  
Ryan got his way in the end, he always seemed to get his way in the end and no one was brave enough to speak out. To stand up and challenge him because most of the time he paid their wage.  
  
His mind drifted to Em and now her son Clayton. The little boy had taken quite a shine to Em, he even started to sound like her, he was getting her accent too. It was sweet. Nice to see Em loosen up just a little and actually enjoy herself a bit more.  
  
She hadn’t always been like that, she hadn’t always been so cynical, oh no, Kyburz remembered the first time he’d met her. Bright eyed and ready for a new challenge, a new chapter in her life. She’d have a laugh with them all and go on about big plans she had. How she’d be out of the Sinclair Deluxe before you knew it.  
  
Four years later and she was still there. The bright eyed and hopeful twenty three year old was replaced by a sarcastic and cynical twenty seven year old.  
  
It had been rather disheartening to watch that transformation, especially when every so often the happy, younger woman she had been would show through the hardened shell.  
  
Oh sure Em had always been a little distant and hardened, but they all had been after the war. Still, she’d been more approachable in her first year in Rapture, after that was a different story. She was harsher, colder, working for Fontaine had seemed to only increase that. Kyburz secretly hoped that Clayton would bring out her softer and caring nature. For now, that seemed to be the case.  
  
“Kyburz!”  
  
The Aussie looked up and stared as Daniel came running up, decked out in his best clothes, a big grin on his face and hair neatly combed back. He looked so much better than the incoherent drunk that had first met Kyburz on their second day of working in Hephestus.  
  
Seemed Opal was doing him the world of good.  
  
“I’m so glad I caught!” He went on, his grin was nearly splitting his face. “Look at this!” He dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a little box, popping it open and sat inside was a ring with a single opal sat in the middle of it.  
  
“Is that…?” Kyburz trailed off, looking up at Daniel’s grin. “Holy- you’re actually gonna do it? How long have you two been-?”  
  
“A year, can you believe?!”  
  
No, Kyburz could not. Simply put, he hadn’t expected the relationship to have lasted a week, much less a year. He wouldn’t want to say he didn’t have faith in his friend, it was more he knew his friend well. Least he thought he did, but Daniel seemed to have a way of surprising people.  
  
“So, you’re actually… gonna pop the question?”  
  
“Yep!” He cried, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “I’m gonna ask Opal to marry me! I got it all planned out, I’m gonna take her to Arcadia, where we went on our first date and then…” he closed the ring box and stuffed it back in his pocket. “I’ll ask her… pretty romantic, right?”  
  
Kyburz smiled and patted him on the back. “I’m proud of you mate, we’ll have to celebrate if the verdict is good.”  
  
“I’m sure she’ll say yes… unless.. do you think I’m moving a bit fast?”  
  
“You’re probably asking the wrong person…” Kyburz mumbled, looking down at the floor. “I haven’t even told the girl I like… that I do. So, you’re braver than me.”  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
He looked away from him, shrugging slightly. “No one you know.”  
  
“Well, maybe I could be your wingman?”  
  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m gonna decline that offer.”  
  
Daniel looked a little put out, but shrugged and instead flashed his boyish smile at him. It was the one that has apparently knocked Opal off her feet and Kyburz could see why. Especially now Daniel had cleaned up nicely.  
  
“I’ve better get going and pick up Opal anyway,” he shrugged slightly. “Just a word of advice Kyburz, if I was able to get the girl, you sure as hell will be.”  
  
With that, he darted off in the directions of the trams and the Rapture Metro. He seemed to run with a spring in his step that had never been there before. It was like he was floating on cloud nine, nothing seemed to be able to bring him down anymore.  
  
It was good to see some happiness in Rapture, especially when Kyburz could still hear the ominous sounds of the gallows. The creaking of the wood and the sound of the rope rubbing against it and straining in the slight breeze the air vents gave off.  
  
He didn’t really believe in omens but, that gallows felt like a pretty big warning. Almost like it was screaming that things were going to get worse before the got better. If they got better.  
  
“Knock it off,” he scolded himself. “Pull yourself together and stop thinking like that. This is Rapture, nothing like that is gonna happen, Kyburz, you’re not on the surface no more. Things work differently here.”  
  
They did, he swore on it, it was why he was here in the first place. The promise of a new start, of a city that wasn’t held back, where everyone was an equal. Utopia. That’s where he was, utopia and nothing bad happened in a utopia.  
  
Just needed this smuggling thing to stop and then everything would blow over and turn back to normal. The damn gallows would be gone and everything would be just fine.  
  
Everything would be fine.

* * *

  
Reggie stared back at the kid that was staring at him, unblinkingly. It was kinda unnerving, he almost forgot that Frank had done the same thing when he was younger. Just.. stared at Reggie in a way that hinted at slight awe. Like he couldn’t believe someone like Reggie existed.  
  
It was the size that got him, Reggie was a big guy, always had been and little Frankie had simply been in awe at his size. He’d only been a small thing after all and then there was this little clone standing in front of him.  
  
Clayton was only four, almost five apparently, he’d been stuck to Ms Em’s side while she figured out which school to send him to. It meant the boy was with her almost at all times, clung to her like one of those limpet things that clung to the sides of the buildings outside.  
  
Hell, Reggie had almost tripped over the kid a few times when he’d been following Em around the Futuristics building and every time he did almost crash into the kid, said kid would just stare at him. Didn’t say anything, just stood blinking up at him with these big brown eyes.  
  
So now, Reggie was staring back at the kid, which almost felt like a staring contest and he was pretty certain the tyke was gonna win. Did he even blink?  
  
“You good, kiddo?”  
  
Clayton’s eyes widened at being spoken to and ducked his head, looking at the floor.  
  
Reggie frowned and winced slightly at the sound of raised voices coming from Fontaine’s office.  
  
Ironically, Em wasn’t there to yell at him, she was yelling at Suchong, those two didn’t get along in the slightest. Reggie wasn’t all that surprised, given how Suchong tended to speak to people. He’d had to hold Limey back a few times from clawing the guys eyes out. Christ that woman was scary. Hell, most of the dames in Rapture were scary, all in their own ways and the boss seemed to like testing them.  
  
He tested Ms Em’s patience a lot, Reggie knew that, he’d heard her constant death threats muttered under her breath. He’d heard Sinclair sometimes did a similar thing, but unlike the boss, he knew when to take a step back. To stop poking the bear, but the boss did not. He poked and poked until he got them to raise hell and then laugh about it afterwards.  
  
He’d done the same thing with Limey as a kid after all and Jesus, Reggie was certain that was why he’d gone grey a lot quicker than he’d expected.  
  
“They’re pretty loud huh?” He spoke again and Clayton looked up at him then, offering a brief smile.  
  
Ah, so there was a kid in there, he was just a little shy was all.  
  
Reggie could work with that, before Frank had become a brat of a kid he’d actually been quite shy and nervous. Then he discovered his ego and the confidence boost did not go unnoticed, nor did the attitude, but he was the boss.  
  
“You’d think they were yelling across Rapture, wouldn’t ya?”  
  
“Sound like screechy records.”  
  
Reggie beamed at the little voice, he even flashed Clayton a grin of his own as the boy grinned at him.  
  
“Sure do, yous wanna look around?”  
  
Clayton bit his lip. “I’m not supposed to, Mama says it’s dangerous.”  
  
“If ya on your own. I’d keep an eye on ya kid,” Reggie stood up and watched with amusement as Clayton stared at him, mouth wide in wonder. “Wanna know what it’s like ta be this tall?”  
  
The boy nodded enthusiastically, quickly getting to his feet and Reggie bent down, picking him up. He rested the kid at his hip, watching with amusement as Clayton’s head swivelled round one way and then the other, taking in the sights.  
  
Finally the kid turned to Reggie with wide eyes, looking a little shocked that he was even this high.  
  
“You’re really tall, Mister Reggie.”  
  
Reggie chuckled, ruffling the kids hair a moment, sending the blonde mess of curls and waves into an even bigger mess. Apparently Ms Em had tried to flatten it, but it never seemed to stick and in the end she’d given up. Then decided that it suited Clayton to be messy, so never bothered with trying anything else, she just kept it trimmed at a reasonable length.  
  
“Tall huh? Well, you’s really small to me. What’s it like being that tiny, huh?”  
  
“Really annoying! I can’t reach all the shelves.”  
  
“Huh? I can’t reach all the cupboards,” he made an exaggerated movement and pressed a hand to his back grinning. “Bad back ya know, I’m an old man after all.”  
  
Clayton giggled. “You’re not old, Mister Reggie,” the boy smiled mischievously. “You’re _really_ old!”  
  
“Cheeky little bugger, ain’t ya?” Reggie smirked, glancing at the sound of heels and spotted Limey coming over to them. “You’s wanna tell me how old Limey is?”  
  
“No,” he shook his head.  
  
“Oh yeah, why’s that?”  
  
“It’s rude!”  
  
Limey raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. She seemed pleased with the answer, reaching up to straighten out Clayton’s hair, muttering about it being a real birds nest.  
  
“Would ya leave the kids hair be?”  
  
“I don’t know why his mother hasn’t fixed it.”  
  
“She tried, ya know that.”  
  
“It irritates me.”  
  
“Everythin’ irritates you, Limes.”  
  
“I suppose I can’t argue that,” she huffed, clutching her file holder tightly and straightening out the collar of her dress.  
  
She’d been in a brighter mood recently, but Reggie hadn’t seen anything about robberies in the newspaper, which meant one of two things. One, Limey had gotten a new hobby to entertain herself, which seemed unlikely. Or two, she was plotting a new robbery and was excited about it. That seemed more like the right answer.  
  
The boss had been against it, but even he knew that it wouldn’t last long. If Limey wanted to rob, she robbed and that was that. It was something you couldn’t talk her out of, sure you could maybe put it on pause, but you couldn’t stop it.  
  
She was biding her time. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike and take her prize.  
  
Reggie wondered just what she could be stealing this time and just where the hell she was hiding it all. It had been driving him up the wall and it had been driving the boss round the bend.  
  
“What’s in the briefcase, Limes?”  
  
“Possible employees.”  
  
“Didn’t know you could fit a person in there, let alone several.”  
  
His cheek got a laugh out of Clayton at least, Limey just stared at him stone faced.  
  
“Funny.”  
  
“Ya didn’t laugh.”  
  
“I don’t laugh,” she huffed, straightening out her glasses. “There’s a bunch of Doctors out there who want to start working for us. Fontaine Futuristics will be a full house it seems. Francis has certainly gained a bit of a following,” she swapped hands with the briefcase and offered a crooked smile. “Everything’s falling into place.”  
  
“Yeah but, ya seen that… thing in Apollo Square?”  
  
“The gallows? Yes, I’ve seen it.”  
  
“What’s a ‘gallows’?” Clayton asked from his vantage point in Reggie’s arms, blinking curiously up at the adults. Reggie set him down and ruffed his hair. “Never you mind what a gallows is. Yous just concentrate on ya studies with your Ma.”  
  
The kid really was a curious one. He was constantly asking Ms Em questions, sometimes out loud, other times whispered in her ear. He didn’t always feel so confident speaking around adults, hell Reggie remembered when Em had first brought him up here, the kid had only whispered to her.  
  
The boss had spent most of those weeks locked away in his office and didn’t come out. Reggie knew why, so did Limey, it was the kid. He looked so much like the boss had. So much so, Frank had almost gone round asking the girls he’d fooled around with if he was somehow there’s, because that would’ve opened up a whole new ball game.  
  
In the end, Frank hadn’t, he wasn’t that stupid when he fooled around so he knew the kid couldn’t really be his. Just paranoia getting to him.  
  
Reggie didn’t know if that was a good thing or a better thing, that the kid wasn’t really the boss’s, because… he wasn’t sure what the boss would do. Frank had never hurt a kid, he’d never had to and it wasn’t like their type of work was overly populated with children.  
  
Still, the boss had never really avoided them either. If they were there, they were there and the only thing he’d have to worry about were the mothers. Those, Reggie found were awful protective of their ‘little snot and spit machines’, the boss had so lovingly called them one time.  
  
Wasn’t that Frank didn’t like kids, he was just indifferent to them. Neither liked or disliked them, some of the little runts topside he would say he could sympathise with them. He’d been in their shoes after all, but that only happened one or two times. Most of the time he just ignored kids and entertained them when he needed to.  
  
This kid though? This kid had freaked the boss out. Really scared him and Reggie hadn’t fully worked out what it was about the kid that scared him, besides the obvious of course. He looked like him and it brought the boss back some less than nice memories, but other than that there was no real reason to be acting the way he was.  
  
Or maybe the kid brought back nice memories and they were even worse than the bad ones.  
  
The door opened, Suchong came storming out, muttering under his breath and looking very disgruntled. He apparently hadn’t gotten his way, if the smirk Em was wearing was anything to go by.  
  
She stood next to Fontaine who was talking to her about something, handing a rolled up set of new schematics.  
  
“Better keep the kid up here,” he said, pocketing his hands. “Don’t think you’d want him down in the lower labs.”  
  
“Why do you need cells in the first place?”  
  
“So the experiments don’t run away.”  
  
Em stared at him.  
  
“That was a joke,” he cracked a smile at her.  
  
“Didn’t sound like a joke…”  
  
“Do you want me to tell you?” He raised an eyebrow. “They ain’t cells, they’re private rooms where volunteers can go and rest.”  
  
“And the bars above them?”  
  
“So the Docs can keep an eye on ‘em, make sure nothin’ bad happens. No bad reactions, ya know? Stuff like that,” he shrugged a little. “Everything’s completely safe, least that’s what the pencil pushers tell me and all the volunteers get paid at the end. Profit comin’, profit goin’, it’s how I like to run my business.”  
  
“That sounded like a Sinclair line.”  
  
“Eh, Augustus might be rubbing off on me,” he shrugged again, running a hand over his head. “S’not my fault, been stuck jawing with him near enough all damn morning. Still, those lower parts of the building ain’t too up to scratch yet and I don’t think they’d be the best place for a kid. Might wanna keep him up here.”  
  
Em raised an eyebrow at him, cocking her hips to side so she could rest her hands on them. She didn’t look too convinced, but she also looked apprehensive of what the real answer might be.  
  
She seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, shaking her head slightly.  
  
“And just who is going to be looking after him? You?”  
  
Frank went wide eyed before he started laughing. Shaking his head in disbelief. Jesus no, he was not looking after the kid, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the kid if could help it.  
  
“Nah, ‘course I ain’t,” he looked up, grinning and pointed at Reggie, Limey and Clayton. “But Reggie looks like he’s got it covered. Haven’t ya, Reg?”  
  
“Err…sure boss,” Reggie blinked at him, looking down at the kid and ruffling his hair with his massive hand. Just like he used to do to Frank when he was ten. “We’ll be alright won’t we kiddo?”  
  
“Yes, Mister Reggie!” Clayton ran up to his Ma and she quickly picked him up, her face was split in a big beaming smile.  
  
Clayton hugged her tightly, before peaking over her shoulder to stare at Fontaine, who took an unconscious step backwards.  
  
Slowly, the little boy lifted a hand up and waved at him, offering a little smile.  
  
Frank, stunned, hesitantly lifted his own hand up and waved, before seeming to come back to himself.  
  
“Reggie will take care of him,” he turned away from the kid, putting all his attention on Reggie and ignoring the brat in Em’s arms.  
  
Clayton slumped a little, clearly upset that Frank was ignoring him.  
  
Fontaine didn’t care, christ he’d almost tripped over the kid when he’d first entered the building. He was sitting in front of the doors after all and he was ready to yell at him, but then noticed his mother. Deciding that yelling at the kid would not be a good idea while Em was in the room, he made a blunt suggestion that she not let him sit near doors and left.  
  
Now here he was trying to ignore those big brown eyes that seemed to bore into him. It was disturbing how much the kid looked like himself and Fontaine was none too happy about it, but it didn’t seem like the kid was going anywhere any time soon.  
  
He was Em’s constant and irritating little shadow, which just stared at him. Always, as soon as he entered a room, bing! Brown eyes on him and he didn’t know what to do.  
  
“Alright,” Em sighed and placed Clayton down, kneeling to his height and ruffling his hair. “You be good for Reggie, okay Kjære? I just gotta fix some more parts for Mister Fontaine.”  
  
“Okay, Mama.”  
  
Em smiled and boopped his nose before getting up, pushing some hair back from her face. She turned and fixed Frank with a stern look, one that could and would freeze hell over.  
  
“Anything happens to my son while I’m gone…” she left the threat hanging before leaving them for the deeper labs.  
  
Reggie blinked a few times staring after her, looking at Fontaine who was a mixture of amused and irritated. He held that expression a lot when dealing with Ms Em, Reggie noted. Almost like the boss didn’t know what to do with her or what to make of her for that matter. Truth was, not many people did.  
  
Reggie wandered over, standing next to the boss while Clayton stood in front of them fiddling with his fingers. Then, like always, he turned to stare up at Fontaine with big brown eyes, blinking innocently at them.  
  
Frank blinked back in surprise, leaning close to Reggie a second and whispering to him. “Just why the hell is he staring at me like that?”  
  
“Just curious, boss.”  
  
“You were just the same,” Limey cut in, walking past them. “We have employees to get through, Francis. We start now we might be finished for lunch.”  
  
“Didn’t know we was workin’ to a time scale.”  
  
“You aren’t, I am.”  
  
Frank rolled his eyes, turning to Reggie and pointing at Clayton. “You keep that kid away from the labs, ya hear me?”  
  
“Sure thing, boss.”  
  
Fontaine smiled, the briefest smile you’d ever seen, took one last look at Clayton and quickly disappeared into his office. He was glad to shut the door and leave those haunting eyes outside.  
  
“I don’t think Mister Fontaine likes me very much.”  
  
Reggie laughed, bending down to pick up Clayton. “Mister Fontaine don’t like anyone very much,” Reggie chimed, carrying Clayton through the facility. “Wanna see the stage, kiddo? It’s real fancy.”  
  
“Why does Mister Fontaine have a stage?”  
  
“To show off his products, kid. Ya gotta draw the folks in, gaping mouthed, then ya hook ‘em and ya’ set for life.”  
  
“Huh. You’re really smart, Mister Reggie!”  
  
“Nah, not me kid. You want smarts, ya gotta talk to Mister Fontaine. _He’s_ the smart one.”

* * *

  
“What are we gonna do? Ryan’s hanging people now. _Hanging_ them!” Peach stressed, looking around the many solemn faces of the smugglers.  
  
There was about was fourteen of them huddled around in a circle, the fifteenth man was leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. The circle practically exuded fear and stress. They looked tired too, backs bent and sitting on crates, surrounding them were banners and boxes with black hands painted on them. A few banners held lines like ‘Fontaine is the Future’ and other such lines of utter garbage.  
  
It had felt like truth at first, Fontaine had increased their wages at the start, but now they wanted out. Fontaine wasn’t playing fair though, he was taking them for eighty percent of their cut, hanging the threat of turning them in to Ryan over their heads.  
  
They also knew for a fact that Fontaine had no issue getting his hands dirty, they’d already lost three of their crew. They knew they’d loose more if people tried to sneak around him, Fontaine had his ways. Somehow he just knew when a guy was gonna squeal and he got rid of the problem before it became a problem.  
  
“It’s simple,” the fifteenth man spoke from his spot against the wall. “We keep our heads down, do what Fontaine says and we won’t have any issues.”  
  
“Easy for you to say, O’Riley!” Peach snapped at him. “With a face like yours, you ain’t got no reason to be scared of anyone!”  
  
O’Riley glanced at him, flat cap drawn over his face, casting it in shadows. When he took a drag from his cigarette, the burning cherry at the end lit his face up for a moment showing the terrible scarring.  
  
Some people had their uniform or medals as mementos from the war, O’Riley had scars. The left side of his face was littered with them, a big one went straight from his eyebrow, just missing his eye, one ran through his lips, some of his hair was missing at the side of his head and wouldn’t grow back. It left a jagged criss cross pattern through his hair.  
  
O’Riley had served in the war, one of the few who jumped from planes, parachuting down as an ambush group. So many successful jumps and one failed jump. The failed one ended with a damaged leg and shrapnel from a grenade blown into his face, as well as a bullet to the shoulder.  
  
Calmly, O’Riley blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth, a cruel smirk twisting its way up his face.  
  
“Least my face got jacked up _after_ the war,” he snarled out. “You’ve been stuck like that ya’ whole life, haven’t ya Peachy?”  
  
“This really important right now?” One of the others piped up.  
  
Peach decided it wasn’t instead, he began to stress desperately to O’Riley. “ _Hanging_! O’Riley, they’re _hanging us_!”  
  
“We just gotta keep our heads down,” he argued. “Ryan can’t do anything if he can’t prove it.”  
  
“What about Persephone?”  
  
A hush fell over the group, even O’Riley looked spooked at the mention of that place. There’d be rumours flying already, not so many people were locked away, but that was only for now. If the hanging was anything to go by, it was only going to get worse.  
  
Sinclair was in charge of the place, it was a well known secret that you didn’t talk about and pretended you didn’t know about.  
  
O’Riley lived in the Sinclair Deluxe and that building was a sham. He wondered if Persephone was built any better. Being that it was a prison, you’d hope it was, but at the same time O’Riley wasn’t too sure the people being locked up in that place quite deserved it.  
  
He stubbed the cigarette out on the wall and tossed it aside carelessly.  
  
“Come on,” he said, picking up some boxes. “We better get this done before Fontaine comes back. Don’t wanna give him an excuse to hand us over to Ryan.”  
  
There were muttered agreements, even Peach seemed to agree, getting up and group disbanded. They picked up boxes moving through the orders quickly. Only one of the workers didn’t seem that bothered or scared. If anything he looked too over confident.  
  
O’Riley wasn’t certain of his name, Sammy something? Only just started working for Fontaine about a week ago, he didn’t understand how dangerous the man was. Either that or he just didn’t take him seriously enough.  
  
Sammy was walking towards the exit, a smug smile on his face. “You idiots can prance around all ya like, I’m quittin’. I’m gonna tell the Wharf Master what Fontaine’s doin’ and I’m gonna quit.”  
  
A silence fell over the whole room, Sammy waved his hand at them all, laughing at the looks of distress. He was leaving the smugglers hideout, carefully hidden in the foundations of Fontaine Fisheries. Fontaine even had oxygen pipes leading from Arcadia, which was the next room over, right to the hideout. Free oxygen right under Ryan’s nose.  
  
O’Riley was quick to catch up with Sammy as he left through the long tunnel, entering out into one of the walk in freezers of the Fisheries. He was hoping he could save the idiot from his own demise.  
  
“You can’t quit!” He cried, keeping his voice down, just incase said man was here. “Fontaine will find you.”  
  
“Hey, fuck Fontaine.”  
  
O’Riley grabbed him harshly by the shoulder, pulling him round to face him and jabbed him in the chest with his finger.  
  
“You don’t fuck Fontaine! Fontaine fucks you!”

* * *

  
_O’Riley,_   
  
_Anyone can be anything:_   
  
_These posh types are all the same. A paper cut and they faint at the sight. They don’t know the first thing about working hard and fighting for their life._   
  
_One of the bastards asked me why I hadn’t gone for a career as an artist since I have a talent for it. ‘Oh Gee,’ I said, ‘why hadn’t I thought of that?’_   
  
_Look at my face! Who’d wanna buy art work from a person with a face like this?! Only work I can get now is down at Fontaine Fisheries._   
  
_Served my country, fought in a war, had half my damn face near enough burnt off and this is my reward. Stuck in an underwater prison taking guts outta fish._   
  
_Rapture. Where anyone can be whatever they want to be… so long as your face ain’t jacked up._


	14. Rum and Coco-cola

_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_No lights of Broadway but close enough:_   
  
_Well it’s up and runnin’. Fontaine Futuristics is officially open, got the big shin dig tonight to celebrate._   
  
_Limey’s currently doin’ Reggie’s bow tie for him, since the mook don’t know how. Ain’t much of a fan of ‘em myself, least I know how ta tie ‘em though. Though guess where Reggie lacks in finesse he makes up for in… everythin’ else._   
  
_Well, it’s finally happened at last. My name, in bright blue neon for an entire city ta see. Not quite the lights of broadway but it sure as hell is damn close._   
  
_Everything’s coming together, Ryan’s time in the spotlight’s comin’ to a close, this is my stage now._

* * *

  
Em tried desperately to flatten Clayton’s hair, straightened out the bow tie and the little waistcoat. Clayton had just turned five and he’d been so excited to have a real birthday.   
  
They’d spent the day at Fontaine Futuristics since Em couldn’t get the day off, but Reggie gave Clayton a new set of books and he didn’t stop smiling for the entire evening. Then they had birthday cake and more presents from the various aunts and uncles which consisted of Em’s close friends.   
  
Now, they were getting ready for the grand opening of the Futuristics ball and dear god she was tired of these things. At least she didn’t have to be on Fontaine’s arm this time. In truth, she hadn’t planned on going, but Clayton had been awful curious about what a fancy party was like, so she decided to take him. Hopefully, he’d find them as boring as she did.   
  
“There,” she breathed a sigh of relief as she was finally able to calm his hair down a little. “Now you just wait there, I gotta grab my purse.”   
  
“Okay Mama!”   
  
Em smiled at him, darting out of the room quickly and though she was only gone for a few moments, when she came back Clayton’s hair was a little messier then before.   
  
Sighing, she decided that it was just going to have to stay that way, then she was putting on her coat, taking his hand and the two raced to the Atlantic Express. They’d got some funny looks and some stares in their dolled up state, but stepping off that train at the station of one of the fanciest building’s in Rapture sure did make Em feel good about herself.   
  
When they walked through the gates and the door onto the little balcony that overlooked the main gangway to the Futuristics building, Clayton stopped and stared.   
  
“Wow! It’s glowing!”   
  
Laughing softly she nodded her head in agreement. Yes, Fontaine Futuristics was glowing, it was lit up like a Christmas tree. Looked like the owner was showing off, being a bit of a showman, she imagined the main entrance hall would be where the party would be held. It was the biggest room in the building. Though the stage was also quite big, she’d done some of the wiring there, but not enough to really get a good look at it.   
  
“It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?” She ran her fingers through his soft curls and waves. “Mister Fontaine likes to show off.”   
  
“Mister Fontaine has a really cool building,” Clayton grinned at her. “None of Mister Ryan’s building’s glow.”  
  
“Clayton, søtnos, the whole city glows.”   
  
“Not like that,” he pointed at the building. “Will the inside glow too, Mama?”   
  
Em gently took his hand and began to lead him slowly down the steps. “Why don’t we go and find out, huh?”   
  
The long walk down the gangway was usually a silent one, but this time music drifted through from the party. She’d wanted to arrive a little later then starting time, hopefully be able to get lost in the crowd.   
  
The doors pulled apart and Reggie was there to greet them at the door, dressed in a tux which he seemed very uncomfortable wearing. His tie was a little cockeyed too, but she doubted anyone would say anything to the bruiser.   
  
“Ms Em,” he nodded, smiling. “Lookin’ good,” he looked down at Clayton and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Cuttin’ a rug too ain’t ya, kiddo?”  
  
“Oh, Reggie, I spent all afternoon trying to smooth his hair down,” Em complained slightly, while Clayton giggled and shook out his curls.   
  
“Looks better like that,” Reggie gestured. “Kid’s a little rascal.”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me that, caught him stealing cookies out of the jar, didn’t I?”   
  
“Oh really now?” Reggie knelt down to Clayton’s height as best he could. “Now you know yous shouldn’t be doin’ that kid,” he said in a serious tone before cracking a grin. “And if ya’ do, you should make sure ya’ don’t get caught.”   
  
“Don’t encourage him,” she laughed, slipping out of her coat and hanging it on the coat stand.   
  
Finally she was able to take in the room. It was packed, filled with all the important business types of Rapture, of course the noticeable celebrities, Cohen, Ava, Ada and even that bitch LaLorna. Some Doctors filled the halls, a few she knew from working around the building. Suchong and Tenenbaum she could spot a mile away and boy if she felt uncomfortable being here, they looked like they might spontaneously combust.   
  
All members of the Rapture Council were there too, Ryan included with Diane on his arm and Sullivan standing close by. Looked like Fontaine really planned on showing something big off tonight. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.   
  
Spotting Kyburz, Em nudged Clayton and pointed and in a flash the boy was running enthusiastically to his favourite uncle.   
  
“Better go and make sure he doesn’t crash into anyone,” she smiled at Reggie. “I’ll see ya later Reggie.”   
  
“You have a good evenin’ Ms Em.”   
  
She nodded and wondered through the crowd after Clayton, finding him talking excitedly to Kyburz, Bill and Elaine.   
  
“And Mama’s in a red dress! She looks really pretty! Uncle Kyburz did you see the building? It glows! The inside doesn’t though, I thought it would, but it doesn’t.”   
  
“Maybe you should suggest it to Fontaine,” Bill muttered, before Elaine slapped him lightly on the arm.   
  
“Where is your mother, Clay’?” Kyburz laughed at the boy’s enthusiasm. It was honestly contagious.   
  
“Right here,” Em came over and pulled Clayton close. “Well look at all of you, only ever used to seeing two of you in scrubs. Ya clean up well boys, Elaine you do wonders.”  
  
“I know, though I certainly had my work cut out,” Elaine laughed.   
  
Elaine was Bill’s wife, they’d met topside, she used to be one of Ryan’s secretaries in one of his buildings in New York. The two had met there and started courting, wasn’t long before they got married, now they were expecting a baby. Things were moving along nicely and Elaine was a lovely woman. Though she did have her doubts about Rapture. Sometimes the two women would talk while Kyburz and Bill went on about work. Em would usually engage in the work conversations when Elaine wasn’t at the Fighting McDonagh, but if she happened to be there, Em would always be ready to chat.   
  
Kyburz hadn’t said anything, he was staring at her in what she could only imagine was shock. He’d only ever seen her in the working scrubs or her party dress for the wild dance nights. That was only rare occasions though, because Kyburz couldn’t dance for toffee, so he often skipped out on the dance nights.   
  
“You gonna make a habit of coming to theses fancy shin digs, Ms Em?” Bill asked, taking a sip of his drink.   
  
She hoped not. She hadn’t wanted to go to this one, but Clayton had been curious and well, he’d soon discover they weren’t all they were cracked up to be.   
  
“Hopefully not,” she sighed, before looking down at Clayton fondly. “But this little devil was curious, so I thought I’d show him.”  
  
“Ah, so Clay’,” Bill looked down at the kid. “What you think of the party so far?”   
  
“The inside doesn’t glow…” he looked thoughtful a moment. “And it needs more banners. At my party we had banners, balloons and streamers! They were hundreds of colours too!”   
  
“Adult parties are a little different, sweetie,” Elaine said.   
  
“So… boring?”   
  
The adults started laughing, even Kyburz seemed to be knocked out of whatever stupor he’d gone into and laughed along with them. Bill was near enough crying with laughter. Kids, Em had found after becoming a mother, that kids were deadly honest. They would tell it to you straight. If you wanted to know if you were ugly or not for sure, ask a five year old and they’d reveal the truth.   
  
What made it even funnier, the children didn’t even realise what they said. They just spoke what they thought and eventually they’d learn to cover over their honest feelings with pretty lies and fantasies. You saved the honest truth for your close friends.   
  
“What’d I say?” Clayton blinked, looking up at all the adults in question.   
  
“Nothing, Kjære,” Em pulled him into a brief hug.   
  
“You just spoke a lot of people’s minds,” Kyburz explained. “See a lot of folks find these parties boring too. They don’t even like half the people that they invite usually.”   
  
Clayton’s little face scrunched up in confusion. Like he was trying to work out some big puzzle and it required all his brain power to come up with an answer.   
  
“Then… why do people throw the parties? Seems silly to me.”   
  
Bill laughed, nodding. “You aren’t wrong there, lad. Adult’s get plenty silly as they get older.”   
  
Clayton’s face screwed up even more, even scrunching up his little button nose as he continued to think something over. Finally coming to a conclusion and looking deadly serious as he looked up at the adults again.   
  
“I don’t wanna be an adult.”   
  
“Well, son, if you can figure out how ta escape such a fate, you come and tell me.”   
  
All eyes turned to Augustus Sinclair who’d also joined the party it seemed. He offered them all a friendly smile, glass of champagne in one hand, ivory cigarette holder in the other. Clayton looked nervous of the newcomer, stepping closer to Em and hugging her leg through the dress.   
  
“I might know a few folks,” Sinclair went on. “Who’d buy that escape route in a heartbeat.”   
  
“How would you know how long a heartbeat is, Augustus?” Em bit out. “You’d have to actually have the organ to begin with.”   
  
“As witty as ever, Ms Em,” Sinclair replied. “So, do any of you know what Fontaine’s got brewin’ behind those doors?”   
  
“Your guess is as good as ours, Sinclair,” Bill shrugged. “Knowin’ Fontaine though, we’ll be finding out soon.”   
  
“Ah, yes,” Sinclair drawled. “Good ol’ Frankie, ever the showman. Heard he’s even got a stage.”   
  
“He does,” Em replied bluntly.   
  
Sinclair looked a little surprised but shrugged, instead taking a drag from his cigarette. No one in the circle seemed all too happy to have Sinclair there. He wasn’t exactly a nice person. Sure, he could pile on the charm when he needed, but that was all the snake oil salesman act. Fontaine did the same thing, hell Ryan did when he felt like it.   
  
“Now,” Sinclair looked down at Clayton and offered a friendly smile. “Who’s this?”   
  
“I’m Clayton,” the boy spoke, clinging a little tighter to Em. “Clayton Lokken.”   
  
Sinclair raised an eyebrow pointedly at Em, who raised her own back. “ ‘Lokken’ you say?” He turned back to Clayton. “So would I be correct in understandin’ that right there is ya’ mother?”   
  
“Well, I sure as hell ain’t his sister,” she bit out.   
  
“Hold up, Ms Em, I do believe I asked Clayton here,” he gestured to him and Clayton tilted his head, studying Sinclair it seemed.   
  
The poor boy looked so very confused. Like he didn’t understand just who or what Sinclair quite was. He was studying him, Em could tell that much. Clayton always got a little look in his eye when he was studying someone, his brown eyes would be just that hint sharper.   
  
“You look too old to be a new born babe, so I’m at my wits end as to how your mother produced you.”   
  
“Sinclair!”   
  
“Mama found me in an air vent.”  
  
“An air vent?”   
  
Clayton nodded. “While she was working, I was hiding in the air vent and she found me.”  
  
“Hm. Now Ms Em,” he looked up to her now, a smirk playing at his lips. “I know you’ve been avoidin’ the fun of male company, as Kelly says, but adoptin’ a little’n seems a bit drastic.”   
  
“You know, you may own the roof over my head, Sinclair, but don’t think for one moment that’ll stop me from punching you in the face,” Emilie seethed, looking absolutely livid.  
  
Damn Kelly and her big mouth. Hell, she’d probably been talking to Diane on the phone, she knew they did that a lot. Em would see Diane talking to her when she’d walk past her desk at Ryan Industries.   
  
Sinclair only chuckled. “I don’t think your employer would like that much, Ms Em.”   
  
“I don’t know. Personally I think Fontaine would get a laugh out of it,” she glanced at his mouth. “Just how much did those Steinman teeth cost?”   
  
“More than you could afford to replace ‘em,” he replied. “Though it seems the mood round here’s become quite hostil’, I think I’ll take my leave and go bother some other more welcomin’ folks,” Sinclair offered them all a smile. “You all enjoy the rest of your evenin’ now.”   
  
They were quiet as Sinclair disappeared into the crowd. Really the man did like pushing her buttons. It was like a game to him, a game that Fontaine played too. She was getting tired of the both of them. Only good thing about Ryan was he didn’t interact with her. He didn’t care enough and probably had better things to do.   
  
Though, since having Clayton around with her, she’d seen less and less of Fontaine. He didn’t bother her when her son was there, almost like he was scared to go near him.   
  
Maybe she should scrap sending Clayton to school and keep him with her at all times. A Fontaine deterrent. Hell, she was certain she couldn’t be the only person who wanted one of those.   
  
“I hate that man,” Kyburz grumbled.   
  
“You’re just bitter about that Persephone project he roped ya’ in to, don’t lie,” Bill said.   
  
“No, not just that,” the Aussie snapped. “You saw how he spoke to Em.”   
  
“Yes and I saw how Em handled ‘erself too.”   
  
“I’m a big girl, Kyburz, I can look after myself.”   
  
Kyburz pressed his lips together in a thin line. “That’s not the point.”   
  
They went quiet again as Tenenbaum walked past them. She didn’t quite walk like a normal person, her movements were robotic, there was no flow to them at all. She also didn’t look too comfortable in heels. Em didn’t mind Tenenbaum, personally. She thought she was a little odd, sure, but she didn’t find her awful like Suchong.   
  
Tenenbaum seemed to treat everyone with the same level of cool distance, very matter of fact and to the point. She was always very polite to Em and would even at times ask her how her day was. Those were few and far between as she always seemed to have her head in a notebook or a clipboard. Sometimes she was staring at a chalkboard with words and equations Em didn’t fully understand.   
  
The times when she did say hello, Tenenbaum almost seemed as surprised as Em was by her voice. It was like she suddenly woke up from her science world and decided to interact with the human race. She was another one that kept her distance of Clayton, though one time she cleared her chalkboard and let him draw on it.   
  
Tenenbaum, Em had noticed, would have little moments of acting more like a human being. She just didn’t do it often and from what Em had heard of the woman’s story, she wasn’t all too surprised.   
  
The German Doctor had been kept in a prison camp, Em wasn’t sure which one, but in the end did it matter? She’d heard of some horrific things going on in those camps, experiments and mass executions, things no one should have to witness. Tenenbaum had been sixteen at the time. Too young. Too young to experience so much pain.   
  
Hadn’t they all been, though?   
  
Emilie herself had been fourteen when the war started, sixteen when she got trapped in the rubble for two days next to her dead father and twenty when it ended. Though it didn’t really end for Em. Not fully. The nightmares would be a constant reminder and they weren’t going away.   
  
She was brought out of her thoughts by Clayton tugging at her dress to get her attention.   
  
“Yes søtnos?”   
  
“Was Miss Tenenbaum, okay?”  
  
“I… just don’t think she likes parties, Kjære.”   
  
“Because there’s no balloons. I bet she’d like it if there were balloons.”   
  
Em laughed softly. “Maybe she would.”   
  
She looked over at the little bar set up at the edge of the room. She could probably get a glass of water for her and Clayton from there.   
  
Taking his hand, she excused herself from the others and gently lead him over to the bar quickly.   
  
She ordered two glasses of water, looking around the room while the waiter prepared their drinks, which in all honesty shouldn’t take long, it was water after all.   
  
Studying the room, she was honestly surprised not to see Kelly here. Em thought she’d be on Sinclair’s arm, but no she had been abnormally absent from his side tonight.  
  
Even if she hadn’t been here with Sinclair, Emilie had still expected to see her. Wasn’t like Kelly to miss out on a big shin dig like this. All those big businessmen, just ripe for the plucking, as she would say, quickly followed up with a line like; and all mine for the taking.   
  
Em honestly did pity the man who would fall into Kelly’s bed and expect more than a one night stand.   
  
The water was placed on the table top and after wrestling a little with Clayton’s fingers so he held the glass and wouldn’t spill anything the two moved away from the bar sipping at their water.   
  
Clayton still didn’t seem to understand why all these people were here and just what they were doing. He didn’t get adults at all, though Em couldn’t say with certainty when she was his age if she got adults. Probably didn’t, they were a strange bunch and she noticed it even more since Clayton began to point it out.  
  
“Mama?”   
  
“Yes, Kjære?”  
  
“If… if people don’t like these parties why do they go?”   
  
Ah that was the question wasn’t it? Why didn’t any of them RSVP unavailable? Usually because they were all too curious and it was a good place to get good gossip. Also a good place to bitch about people behind their backs, but just loud enough so they could hear them over the music.   
  
It was all very childish really.   
  
“You know something?” She looked down at him with her own confused smile. “I have no idea.”   
  
“Why are adults so silly?”   
  
“Clayton, my dyrebar engel, I honestly couldn’t tell you. We think we’re not being silly, if that helps any?”   
  
“But you’re doing things you don’t want to do.”   
  
“Sometimes, Kjære, you have to.”   
  
He pouted a little, screwing his nose up. “Well it seems so… so… latterlig?”   
  
Emilie beamed at him. She’d been teaching him her own native language recently and he was picking it up quickly. Norwegian was a hard language to learn, she knew from the times she’d tried to teach Kyburz and after two weeks they both decided to stop. Either that or she was going to suffer from her ears bleeding at his terrible pronunciations.   
  
He couldn’t help it and she knew that, but that didn’t mean it was easy to listen to.   
  
Clayton however was thrilled to be learning a new language and in many ways it brought them closer. Having this language that only they could speak and understand. Like a secret. So he’d been learning and studying any moment he could, they’d even started to talk in Norwegian around the house. Just little sentences and small conversations at first, but he was getting the hang of it.   
  
“That’s right,” she cooed. “You’re getting so good, Clay’, I’m so proud of you!”   
  
Clayton looked like he was about to start talking, beaming up at his mother too, when the band had stopped playing and Fontaine’s voice cut through the silence. Inviting them all to come through to the theatre.   
  
Ah, there was Kelly.   
  
She was standing next to Fontaine, arm looped through his, clearly being his date for the evening, but Em hadn’t seen them. Either of them. She hadn’t seen them for the entire time she’d been here and usually she could spot Kelly a mile away.   
  
That woman always made it her mission to stand out in crowd, catching as many of the men’s eyes as possible, usually wearing something as skin tight as possible. With a push up bra that she didn’t need.   
  
Tonight was no exception, as the dress was lilac and clung to her form, with a slit sliding up the side of the dress. Her hair was done up all fancy, though not to the usual neatness that Kelly would have it in. Her makeup, most noticeably her lipstick was also smudged and… oh dear god that was why Emilie hadn’t seen either of them.   
  
Slowly the party made it through to the stage, Kelly noticed them and quickly waved Em over, saving two seats for her and Clayton. Kelly even shooed away a big businessman that tried to take Clayton’s seat. Bill thankfully sat next to him, Kyburz was somewhere at the back.   
  
Usually that would be where Em would sit herself, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to Kelly. A lot of people couldn’t say no to Kelly.   
  
“You look fabulous,” Kelly whispered. “You even went shopping without me and got a new dress, I gotta say, you do look good in red.”   
  
“Do I? Would’ve thought that was more your colour…” she gave her a pointed look. “I didn’t think you’d sink so low.”   
  
“Oh please, you’ve seen some of the trash I’ve been with before,” Kelly smirked. “Fontaine was a proper gentleman. Just not so gentle… not that I’m complaining.”   
  
“I didn’t need to know that.”   
  
“Oh come on, don’t be jealous,” she winked. “You had your chance and you said no.”   
  
Em glanced to make sure Clayton wasn’t listening, but her son was engrossed with a conversation with Bill. Something to do with Rapture’s inner workings. He was curious about mechanics, probably because it was her job.   
  
Turning back to Kelly with a stern look that could break glass.   
  
“Jealous? Why on earth would I be jealous?” She raised an eyebrow. “Take him, for all I care.”   
  
“I think you got that the wrong way round.”  
  
“Kelly.”   
  
“I still say you’re jealous.”   
  
“Oh, because what?” Em laughed sarcastically. “Because you scratched your itch with a bald man? Big deal.”   
  
Kelly grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.   
  
Em only scoffed. “Oh please, it couldn’t of been that impressive.”   
  
“Well, if you said yes, you would know.”   
  
“I don’t want to know!” She bit back. “I don’t know why you think I do- also, so what if bald men have stamina? Can’t be that comfortable if you haven’t got anything to hold onto.”   
  
Kelly rose an eyebrow at her. “Do I look like I do bareback rodeo riding?”   
  
“ _Søte herre, Kelly, jeg trengte ikke å vite det. Jeg vil ikke vite hvor god en skrue Fontaine var, jeg trenger absolutt ikke å vite om størrelse! Min fem år gamle sønn sitter også ved siden av meg, og selv om han ikke var det, ville jeg ikke at du skulle fortelle meg disse tingene_!”   
  
Kelly blinked at her several times. She looked a little stunned at the sudden onslaught of Norwegian thrown at her. Em didn’t tend to speak in her own language since no one understood what she was saying. Kelly had only ever heard the woman count in her own language or swear in it, but never give out full sentences like this.   
  
“Honey,” Kelly gently placed a hand on her arm. “I’m gonna be real honest here I have no idea what you just said, but you should speak in Norwegian more often. It sounds so… sensual.”   
  
“If you knew what I was saying you wouldn’t be saying that.”   
  
“Oh come on now,” she grinned. “Don’t be like that. I keep saying, it’s okay to be jealous.”  
  
“Kelly, the only thing I’m jealous of is your flexibility.”  
  
If Kelly was about to say something, the words died in her mouth as the lights dimmed down and soon only one spotlight was directed at the stage. Directed at Fontaine who seemed right at home.   
  
Em felt like the man never got off the stage. Like he was always performing and never letting anyone see who he really was. Maybe he couldn’t remember who he really was.   
  
Right now, he was businessman Frank Fontaine, the biggest headache to Andrew Ryan. Now though, he was putting on a show, giving the audience a charming smile. The same one he’d fired at Em when they first met.   
  
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he spoke loudly and confidently, not needing a microphone. “Thank you all for coming, I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening,” he slipped a hand in his pocket, looking over the audience, his eyes betrayed how he really felt. There was nothing but contempt in them.   
  
Then his eyes fell on Clayton and he seemed to freeze a moment, seeming almost uncomfortable before collecting himself. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the audience and offered them that smile again.   
  
“I apologise for keeping you so long, but now I can reveal what Fontaine Futuristics has been working on tirelessly these past few months.”   
  
He began walking across the stage, in her direction, the spotlight following him.   
  
“Imagine, being able to light a cigarette with a simple snap of your fingers or lifting objects with your mind. Works of fiction?” He paused and looked to the audience to read their reactions. “Not anymore.”   
  
Em frowned and heard people mutter around her. Clearly they were equally as confused as she was. Clayton looked up at Em, tugging on her dress, face a look of confusion.   
  
“But, Mama, that’s impossible right? You have to use matches.”   
  
“Right you are, Clayton,” Fontaine addressed him and the little boy jumped, staring at him with wide eyes.   
  
It was the first time Fontaine had ever acknowledged his presence before. The boy had been trying for the months he’d been around, but Fontaine had ignored him or avoided him. Em was certain that Clayton would give up soon and she would grateful when that happened. Fontaine was not the type of person she wanted anywhere near her son.   
  
“Your Ma, I have no doubt has to light one or two matches to get the stove goin’,” he grinned, giving a wink. “And I imagine yous being vertically challenged, ya can’t always reach the top shelf.”   
  
Emilie was about to tear his head off, because how dare he bring her son into this, but Clayton beat her to the punch.   
  
“Yeah but adults are vertically challenged when it comes to the bottom cupboard.”   
  
Kelly and Em covered their mouths with their hands, she swore she heard Reggie laughing at the back. Most shockingly of all was Frank barked out a laugh, seeming to be a little caught off guard from the comment.   
  
“Not bad, kid,” he muttered softly, before speaking to the crowd. “Needless to say, we all have challenges, that’s as sure a given. What if I told you all these could be overcome with these,” he gestured next to him and a second spotlight lit up a table filled with glass bottles. They were glowing, almost buzzing with power. A deep red, an icy blue, some crackled with what looked like electricity in a deep purple and others were a clear piercing white.   
  
“These,” Fontaine picked up one of the bottles, holding it in his hand. “Are Plasmids! I’d like to direct your attention to the stage,” he turned to the side and the curtains pulled back to show a second stage where four people stood.   
  
Suddenly a voice spoke over the intercom system, it was clearly the male radio host for Rapture Radio, Em personally found he always spoke too fast.   
  
“Oh dear, looks like Jim here hasn’t got any matches to start the fire! What will he do?”   
  
The man named ‘Jim’ turned to the makeshift fire place and with a snap of his fingers, flames were engulfing the wood. A fire began to build up, crackle and burn. The wood splintered and charred, to celebrate, ‘Jim’ took out a cigarette, snapped his finger and a tiny flame appeared at the end of his thumb. He lifted it to the cigarette and blew a string of smoke up to the ceiling.   
  
The audience sat in stunned silence, mouths were agape and eyes were wide. It was incredible, fire at your finger tips. Clayton was completely engrossed as the show continued, people shooting ice, electricity, moving objects with the power of their mind! Just like Fontaine had said.   
  
“You see folks,” Fontaine began walking across the stage. “It’s all possible with Plasmids, but for those of you who just aren’t happy with what you were born with,” a third spotlight lit up a second table at the other end.   
  
This one held smaller bottles, but they were still glowing brightly in different colours, blue, green and gold. He picked one up and tossed it into the air before catching it again.   
  
“These are our Tonics, Gene Tonics if you will,” he placed the bottle back on the table. “Not as flashy as our Plasmids, but these do more than simply change ya’ hair colour. You want to be a little taller? No problem. You want to have the perfect body? No problem! Maybe you want to be just that bit smarter?” He gestured to the bottles. “These make it all possible!”   
  
The crowd had seemed to of gotten over their shock and were instead excited, practically buzzing in their seats at the very idea. Some of them still looked nervous, Clayton looked stunned and was staring at Fontaine with a look in his eyes that Em hadn’t seen before.   
  
“Plasmids and Tonics are the way of the future,” Fontaine went on. “Fontaine Futuristics has one more surprise for you tonight folks, on your way out you can take a free sample bottle of any of the Plasmids and Tonics you see on the stage before you. They’re right outside in the hall way, be sure to pick one up and let us know what you think.”  
  
Frank moved to the centre of the stage, looking so confident right now and very pleased with himself. He was outright smiling.   
  
“Don’t be a stick in the mud, evolve today!”   
  
People immediately began to cheer, even Em felt herself clapping and Clayton was practically bouncing in his seat.   
  
They held back while a huge crowd rushed through outside, a lot of them were picking up the free samples and rushing off home. No doubt they wanted to try them out as soon as possible.   
  
Limey was standing nearby, taking notes and booking appointments from some of the big businessmen who were very interested about investing in these Plasmids and Tonics. Sinclair even spoke to Limey and booked himself an appointment.   
  
Kelly stood with Em and Clayton, who was clinging to Em and had a thousand watt smile on his face.   
  
“Superpowers!”  
  
“What?” She looked down at him and he beamed at her. “  
  
Mister Fontaine is selling superpowers!”   
  
She supposed he was. Fire, ice and electricity at your fingertips, Fontaine was right in his speech, those were all work of fiction. Stories you told your children to help them sleep.   
  
Now, the rich and famous of Rapture could get their hands on them and Em wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. She knew what some of the rich in this place were like, having the power of the gods wasn’t something she thought they needed. Hell, most of them already thought they were some sort of god.   
  
“It’s impressive,” Kelly gushed, checking herself in the mirror. “I’m sure I could improve in some aspects of myself.”   
  
“You really don’t have to,” Em muttered. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”   
  
“Well don’t you just say the kindest things.”   
  
Kyburz approached them. He looked nervous and skittish. He was probably freaked out by that whole thing, Em knew he wasn’t too keen on change. This was going to be a big change.   
  
“What do you think of it all?” He asked, slipping his hands in his pockets.   
  
“I’m taking a ‘wait and see’ approach to this,” Em mumbled, running her fingers through Clayton’s soft curls. “I don’t trust Fontaine.”   
  
“I’m going to take one of those free samples,” Kelly said, slipping her little compact mirror away. “You never know, could be worth it. What about you, Kyburz? Think you might take something?”   
  
The Aussie shuffled uncomfortably. “I think I’ll take Em’s approach. Doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true? There’s gotta be side effects.”   
  
“Don’t everything have side effects these days?” Fontaine said as he approached them, no doubt he was looking for Kelly as she was his date for the evening.   
  
He stopped and stared at Em for a moment, looking her up and down. He wasn’t even being subtle about it.   
  
“Don’t you have a date already, Mister Fontaine?” Kyburz bit out.  
  
Frank regarded him cooly. Studying him, just like Clayton studied people he was unsure of, trying to get a gauge of the man in front of him. When he seemed to come to a conclusion, he smirked at Kyburz. It was all sharp edges and had a cruelness to it.   
  
“I’m sorry, Mister Kyburz,” Frank replied, coming round the back of Em to take Kelly’s arm. “I wasn’t aware Em was _your_ date for the evenin’.”   
  
“I’m not,” Em snapped. “But it’s impolite to your date, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
“Oh please,” Frank rolled his eyes. “She’s been checkin guys out all evenin’.”   
  
“Oh darn,” Kelly fussed, winking at him. “You caught me.”   
  
“Mister Fontaine!”   
  
Frank looked down to find Clayton staring up at him with big brown eyes. He was starting to get a better handle at dealing with the similarities. Just coincidence, but it always surprised him whenever he looked at the kid properly.   
  
Plus the kid had been funny back there, smart too. He wasn’t quite ready for that response and it seemed the kid had picked up the accent of his mother. He spoke just like her, even when he was speaking in English.   
  
“Yeah, Clayton?”   
  
Clayton beamed at finally being spoken to. He had been trying to get Fontaine’s attention ever since he first saw the kid again.   
  
“Are the Plasmids superpowers?”   
  
Frank laughed. “I suppose, in a way,” he ruffled Clayton’s hair. “But we’re more sellin’ ‘em for around the house use.”   
  
“If you’d excuse me,” Kelly jumped in. “I’m just going to go and take a powder..”   
  
“Don’t be long, doll,” Frank drawled, giving her a light kiss on the cheek.   
  
Kelly giggled in a way the boys liked, batting her eyelashes at him. Em was certain it would do nothing to Fontaine, but he played his part and smiled at her antics. She wished Em a quick goodnight before disappearing into the crowd of people.   
  
“I should probably get going too,” Em said, reaching down and scooping up Clayton. “Gotta put this one to bed.”   
  
“Mn’ not tired.”   
  
“Sure you aren’t.”   
  
“I’ll walk you back home,” Kyburz offered quickly.   
  
Em nearly stumbled, staring at him for a long moment and shaking her head. It was just a monorail ride for her, she wasn’t marching across half of Rapture to get back. Nothing to it.   
  
“Kyburz, that’s fine.”  
  
“I insist.”   
  
“Well if you insist, you insist,” she sighed. “I’ll just grab my coat.”   
  
She walked away from the two men, Kyburz’s shoulders lifted with pride and had a nervous twitch to them. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten himself and he’d certainly forgotten Fontaine was there, because the conman was able to read him like a book.   
  
It was so plain to see, Frank was surprised Em hadn’t realised what was going on.   
  
Fontaine laughed, a harsh sound that started at the back of his throat and gradually got a little louder.   
  
“You sad sap,” he drawled, Kyburz glared at him, but Frank wasn’t bothered. He looked amused. “You’re so obvious. I’m amazed she ain’t worked it out yet…” he paused looking at his watch, before smirking at the Aussie. “Or maybe she has and just isn’t interested.”  
  
“You jealous, Fontaine?”   
  
“Jealous?” Frank laughed. “You can have the Norwegian broad all ya like,” he watched Kyburz’s eye twitch at the description. “Just don’t think for a second she’s ever gonna be interested in having you.”   
  
Kyburz jutted out his chin in defiance. “Good things come to those who wait.”   
  
“Hm. Then you,” Fontaine said, pointing at him. “Are gonna be waintin’ for an eternity.”

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Absolute Power:_   
  
_Plasmids. People shooting fire and ice out of their hands with a snap of their fingers. Things only the gods from the stories my Pappa read to me as a child, could do. Now the citizens of Rapture are giving Thor a run for his money with electrobolt._   
  
_There is a reason that such gifts are for gods only and even they don’t always use them right. Man was not meant to mess with such things, with nature, not like this. Now everyone, from the poor to the rich can have the power of the gods._   
  
_They say that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely… it’s going to be interesting to see how this plays out._   
  
_Well, I know they’re only advertised as ice for your drink or a light for a cigarette, but the man who created the Nuclear bomb only wanted to create a new form of power and look at what he made instead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn so we finally have plasmids! Whoop! Things are really going to start picking up now...
> 
> Also for Em's Norwegian I used google translate (not the best I know) but basically what she's saying in that big sentence is that she doesn't want to know and doesn't care how good a screw Fontaine is and points out that her five year old son is sitting next to her. Does Kelly ever have an off switch or words along those lines XD


	15. The Best Things in Life

_Clayton Lokken,_   
  
_Super powers!:_   
  
_Plasmids! Super powers in a bottle! It’s amazing! Now people can shoot lightning and fire out of their hands! Mum says I’m too young to use them though and that I shouldn’t cause she doesn’t trust Mister Fontaine._   
  
_I don’t really wanna though… I hate needles…_

* * *

  
The monorail ride home felt strange. Em wasn’t sure if it was the shock from seeing the Plasmids or the fact that Kyburz was with her still. She hadn’t expected him to walk her and Clayton home, he was even carrying Clayton now since the little boy had fallen asleep.   
  
All the excitement of the Plasmids and Tonics had really tired him out. He’d spoken none stop about them on the walk to the monorail station and for some of the journey, before eventually falling asleep.   
  
Kyburz smiled softly at her, shifting her son in his arms, Clayton’s head was resting on his shoulder.   
  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry him?” Em asked.   
  
“I’m fine, Em,” he smiled, but it was a little flat.   
  
Fontaine had said something to Kyburz, she was certain of it. He’d been fine one moment and then when he joined her at the exit of the Futuristics building he’d been oddly subdued. More so then he usually was. To anyone else they wouldn’t of noticed, but Em knew him well enough to know when he was upset.   
  
There was also the long awkward silences stretching between them. Those had been happening more and more often recently, like Kyburz wasn’t always too sure what to say to her anymore. He’d also say some odd stuff and she’d… laugh or respond as best she could, but he always seemed nervous.   
  
“You know,” he suddenly spoke, making her jump. “Daniel’s bought a ring? He showed it me today, think he was planning on asking Opal tonight.”   
  
“Well, if she says yes then Clayton might have a friend to play with soon,” Em beamed. “I’m so happy for them. You know, as odd as they are for a couple, they’re so sweet. Perfect match for each other.”   
  
Kyburz laughed slightly and gestured to himself and Em. “We look a bit like a couple.”   
  
“A couple of friends,” Em laughed, awkwardly punching his arm.   
  
Kyburz’s smile fell a little, but he laughed awkwardly along with her before they fell into more awkward silence.   
  
The train pulled up to the station and Em went to take Clayton off him, but Kyburz shook his head. He’d said he’d walk them home after all, apparently that meant all the way to Em’s apartment.   
  
On the walk through the Drop, Em was silently praying that the elevator was working. She didn’t want to walk up all those stairs in these heels, her feet hurt. She missed her work boots and flat shoes. These stupid things hurt her feet and felt so tight around her toes.   
  
She didn’t know how Kelly could stand to walk in heels all the time, though she couldn’t understand how Kelly could walk at all. What she wore on her feet had nothing to do with it either.   
  
“You ah, you know you looked really… really amazing tonight,” Kyburz said as they approached the Sinclair Deluxe. “You stood out. You looked beautiful.”   
  
“What?” Em laughed shaking her head. “I looked ridiculous. I mean, look at this stupid thing,” she gestured to the long red evening dress, pulling a little at the material. “God, I wanted my working scrubs.”   
  
“You didn’t look ridiculous, Em, you looked beautiful,” Kyburz insisted.   
  
She laughed awkwardly, walking up to the elevator and calling for it. She wished Kyburz would drop this line, it was irritating. She didn’t feel like she was beautiful, she felt uncomfortable and exposed. Em didn’t see herself as a good looking woman, she hadn’t taken her looks in too much consideration, despite Kelly’s constant badgering.   
  
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said again, punching the control panel for the elevator this time, but it still didn’t come down. Broke again. As usual. “I know what I looked like. I looked like a spruced up red pepper.”   
  
“Well not to me. You looked stunning.”   
  
“You need your eyes testing,” she mumbled, giving up with the elevator. Em looked up at the stairs, pinching the bridge of her nose and mumbling to herself.   
  
Bracing herself against the elevator, she proceeded to take her heels off, lifting up her dress a little so she could undo the little strap. Kyburz went wide eyed and span around quickly, a light blush coated his cheeks, but she hardly paid him any attention.   
  
As Em quietly cursed Sinclair’s name in her head, she had to wonder just what he thought of Kelly being with Fontaine this evening. Em had suspected that Sinclair had been using Kelly as some sort of feminine weapon, just hold her in front of a bunch of men and hey presto! A perfect distraction.   
  
She pulled up the folds on her dress and began to walk up the stairs, Kyburz was quick to follow her.   
  
“You know, you tell me not to sell myself short, but you do it an awful lot to yourself,” he said.   
  
“Maybe I should take one of Fontaine’s magic Tonics?” She bit out. “Maybe that’ll make me feel better about myself.”   
  
“You and I both agree that’s a stupid idea,” he hissed. “Even if not trusting him had nothing to do with it, you wouldn’t buy them simply on principle.”   
  
“That being?”   
  
“You don’t like him so you wouldn’t want to help fill his wallet.”   
  
“Because technically I’d be paying myself,” she replied. “Will you just drop it, Kyburz.”   
  
Emilie quickened her pace up the stairs and Kyburz was having a hard time keeping up, Em lived at the top floor, it had the bigger rooms than the lower ones.   
  
The Deluxe was never quiet, all around them there was noise, whether it was the heating kicking in or the occupants. There were a string of yells from room 106 as usual. Some argument again. Room 124 was sounding off with cries that left little to the imagination, some old lady in the room over was yelling at them to keep the noise down and then there were the screams of terror as another woke from nightmares.   
  
It was never quiet here.   
  
Passing by one of the steps, O’Riley was leaning on the railing looking shaky, gripping tightly with white knuckles. Even though she barely knew the man she knew he suffered from nightmares like she did. Apparently tonight had been a bad one, but she knew better than to ask. He wasn’t exactly the most approachable sort.   
  
“What do you have against someone complimenting you?” Kyburz asked, apparently he wasn’t going to drop it. “Is it really that bad for someone to tell you, you looked nice?”   
  
“Thought you said I looked beautiful,” she grumbled fiddling with the key as it kept getting stuck.   
  
“Oh really? You’re gonna be like that?” He hissed, trying to keep his voice down so he didn’t wake Clayton up.   
  
“I told you to drop it, Kyburz,” Em snarled, struggling with the door.  
  
It always got stuck and jammed in place. She’d been meaning to oil it, but every time she remembered it was usually while she was struggling with it. Then it would leave her head and she’d never bother with it.   
  
She’d make a note of it this time.   
  
“Would you like me to-?”   
  
“I can open my own door, Kyburz!”   
  
“Jesus Christ Emilie!” He yelled startling Clayton awake and he put the boy down snatching the key from her hand. “You need to get rid of that chip on your shoulder!”   
  
“I don’t have a chip-.”   
  
“Yes you do!” He snapped back, turning on her fully, Clayton darted behind Em and clung to her legs while still trying to cover his ears. He still didn’t like people yelling, he’d always hid behind her when someone did.   
  
Now Kyburz was yelling, it wasn’t something she was used to or expected from him. He just didn’t yell, he was always so quiet. He certainly didn’t yell at her.   
  
“You,” he pointed at her. “Have a real issue with letting people help you, like you think it’s going to make you seem weak?!” He turned back to the door and shoved it open. “I’m offering to help you because I care, not because I think you’re incapable! I’m just trying to help, but you jump down my throat and anyone else’s who so much as tries to be nice to you!”   
  
“I don’t need people’s help, I could’ve opened that door on my-.”   
  
“You’re missing the point!”   
  
She sucked in a breath, feeling the rage boiling over and looking down at Clayton who looked terrified.   
  
“Clayton, sweetheart,” she managed to say with a small amount of calm. “Please get ready for bed, Mama will be in a minute, okay?”  
  
“Yes Mama,” he darted inside and she slammed the door shut behind him.   
  
“You were scaring him!” She hissed. “You know he hates it when people yell!”   
  
“You didn’t exactly give me much choice!” He gestured with his arm. “You have got to stop getting so defensive! I’m not trying to be controlling, I’m trying to be helpful!”   
  
“I never asked for help!”   
  
“And that’s your problem!” He raged. “You push away everyone who tries to help you or heaven forbid throw a compliment your way. I’m not going to think you can’t be an engineer if I find you beautiful too! You really think I’m that petty?”   
  
She didn’t want to have this conversation. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about her insecurities about her looks. Kelly knew about a few that were obvious, like the scars and such. That little pep talk when they’d gone shopping was nice and had boosted her ego a little, but she still didn’t feel comfortable.   
  
“If I give you a compliment, can’t you just say thank you!?”   
  
Her eyes flashed and her temper was rising. She knew she’d loose her temper soon if she didn’t end this quickly. Em had a tendency to say things she didn’t mean when she got angry, but really she was sick and tired of other people telling her what to do recently.   
  
She was tired of Fontaine, Sinclair and Ryan. Tired of these fancy balls and the pressure of having to look half decent. She was tired of Kyburz being so damn weird, she just wanted things to go back to normal. She just wanted, no needed things to be as they had once been.   
  
She needed… she needed a goddamn drink, that’s what she needed, but she’d poured it all away.   
  
“I thought you weren’t going to tell me what to do?”   
  
“Oh you know you-.” Kyburz clenched his fist, cutting himself off.   
  
He placed his hands on his hips, turning away from her and walking a few paces to calm himself down. Em knew this trick because she did the same thing. When her temper was getting out of control she would try to give herself as much space as possible.   
  
“You know,” Kyburz said, his throat sounded dry, probably due to all the shouting. “The reason you can’t get a date is because you push anyone who may be interested away because of that attitude! Why can’t you see what I see?”   
  
“Because the moment I do that’s all I’ll be!” She yelled back, she could feel herself getting worked up. “If I show the slightest bit of interest in being a woman, that’s all I’ll be! An object and do you know how much disrespect I’d get in the work place? Do you know what I have to deal with now?”  
  
“Yes, Emilie I do, I have eyes!” He snapped. “But when it’s just us, why do you have to carry that chip with you?!”   
  
“Why does it matter to you, huh?” She gestured at him. “Jesus Christ, Kyburz! We aren’t a thing, we aren’t courting! Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”   
  
For the briefest moment Kyburz looked hurt. Really hurt, the most upset she’d ever seen him. He looked away from her for just a second, swallowing uncomfortably and barking out a laugh.  
  
“Goddamn it… Fontaine was right…”   
  
“Fontaine?” She frowned at him. “What the hell has he got to do with it? What did he say to you?”   
  
“You know what?” Kyburz held his hand up, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he looked up at her, looking both angry and frustrated. Soon though it melted into just a look of hurt. “And even if it did… not like you’d want to hear it. You can’t stand the idea of someone finding you attractive, I dread to think what you’d think of someone who-,” he cut himself off again and shook his head. “Kelly and Diane are wasting their time. You’d never settle down, you’re too damn prideful.”   
  
“You know something,” Em hissed, crossing her arms. “I wish everyone would just mind their own damn business and leave me alone.”   
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Em, the way you talk to people you’ll be alone in no time!”   
  
Something had to give.   
  
Her first was flying before she even realised it was and she cracked Kyburz right across the jaw, sending him backwards. He stumbled and caught himself on the railing, reaching a hand up to clutch at his jaw and stare at her with wide eyes.   
  
Emilie was breathing heavily, looking close to crying but she was too stubborn for that. Her whole body was shaking like she was barely containing the rage inside her.   
  
“Leave!” She hissed between her teeth, almost like if she tried to start talking she was going to start crying.   
  
Kyburz’s words seemed to have caught up with him, he looked stricken that he’d even said those things, but it wasn’t the words as such that had hurt Em, but the fact they were true. She just didn’t like having the truth hurled in her face like that. The last thing he’d said certainly wasn’t something that needed to be said at all.   
  
“Emilie I didn’t mean-.” He tried, taking a step forward, but she shoved him back as hard as she could.   
  
“I said leave, you son of bitch and don’t you ever come back here! Friends don’t say that to each other!”   
  
“Friends don’t punch each other in the face either!”   
  
“Then I guess we aren’t friends!”   
  
The silence was deafening, Kyburz and Em both looked like they couldn’t believe those words had fallen between them. Kyburz was one of her closest friends, ever since she started living in Rapture, the one person who kept her sane in Hephestus.   
  
Em’s biggest problem though, she wasn’t someone who backed down, even if she hadn’t meant what she said and she really hadn’t meant that. She was just angry, but taking it back wasn’t in her character and right not she was too angry.   
  
Instead she took the easy option and yanked the door open, darting inside and slamming it shut. It locked shortly afterwards, leaving Kyburz standing in the hallway.

* * *

  
Kyburz was dreading work. His head was hanging low as he went over yesterday in his head over and over again.   
  
Why hadn’t he just left it alone? She’d asked him to, but he kept pushing and even then he hadn’t had the guts to say anything to her. To actually tell her how he felt.   
  
He rubbed at his jaw. It still ached this morning, Em really did have a good right hook. He wasn’t surprised she knocked Peach out that one time at the McDonagh’s.   
  
Hephestus was buzzing with activity, everyone was talking about the latest product’s by Fontaine Futuristics, things you’d think were only possible in a science fiction novel. It was crazy.   
  
Then again, Kyburz was living in a city at the bottom of the ocean so really they’d past the point of crazy. Didn’t mean the spectacle hadn’t been impressive and as much as Kyburz hated Fontaine, the Plasmids and Tonics had been impressive. He’d admit that to himself privately, but he’d never say it out loud. Not even if he was held at gun point.   
  
He’d never hated someone quite as much as he hated Frank Fontaine.   
  
Kyburz didn’t know the man personally, but he blamed him for everything that had happened last night. His comment had nagged and nagged at Kyburz all the way back to Em’s apartment. It was probably why he acted like a complete idiot and pushed her when he should’ve just left well enough alone.   
  
Em was stubborn, she always had been, so just why had he pushed her like that? Why had he been an idiot and why did that woman have to have such a good right hook. Christ his jaw was killing him.   
  
“Morning’ boss.”   
  
He looked up to see Pablo standing at the entrance, behind a few other workers who were just clocking in.   
  
“Hm. Morning.”   
  
“You look like shit,” Pablo looked him up and down. “If you don’t mind me saying.”  
  
“Thanks, Pablo,” he replied bluntly. “Really makes me feel better.”   
  
The man shrugged clocking himself in and waiting for Kyburz to do the same.   
  
“You’re late, boss,” he stated. “You look awful and you’re late. Rough night?”   
  
“You could say that,” he paused a second at the top gangway overlooking the core of Hephestus. “You seen Em this morning?”   
  
Pablo nodded. “Yeah, the Norsky got in a bit before you arrived. She didn’t look happy, we let her clock in before us,” he leaned over to Kyburz to whisper lowly. “Between you an’ me, we was just grateful to be out of her hair. Had a look that could break glass ya’ know?”   
  
“Yeah,” he replied, recalling how she looked at him yesterday with vivid memory. “I know it.”  
  
They walked through to the locker room and she was there, putting her coat away and fixing her tool belt.   
  
Pablo had been right, she didn’t look happy. She didn’t look happy at all, also Clayton wasn’t with her. Maybe she asked one of her friends to look after him while she was at work. Usually Kyburz would’ve asked but he wasn’t quite sure where they stood at the moment.   
  
Last night she’d screamed in his face that they weren’t friends. Childish now he thought it over in his head, but at the time it had hurt. Had she meant it? He wasn’t too sure.   
  
Emilie had a tendency to say a lot of things out of anger and not mean any of it.   
  
Cautiously he walked up to his locker which happened to be next to hers. They’d been close friends after all. Still were close friends? He hated the not knowing.  
  
“Morning,” he tried.   
  
She didn’t even look at him, just slammed her locker shut making everyone in the room jump and Kyburz winced.   
  
Ah, she was still mad at him.   
  
“Morning Ms Em,” Pablo tried, his locker was the closest to the door.   
  
“Morning, Pablo.”   
  
Kyburz sighed, opening the his own locker to put away his jacket. Yeah she was still _very_ mad at him.   
  
“Morning everyone!”   
  
Kyburz recognised the voice as Daniel’s but he sounded over the moon. Oh wait, the proposal was last night… wasn’t it?   
  
Quickly Kyburz shut his locker and came over.   
  
Daniel had a huge smile on his face, Em was leaning on one of the supports with her arms crossed, while Pablo still stood at his locker staring at Daniel like he’d grown a second head. No one had ever seen him so happy, he doubted anyone had ever been as happy as Daniel so clearly was this morning.   
  
“I have some news,” he went on, bouncing on his toes. He held a look of disbelief on his face.   
  
“Yeah?” Pablo waved for him to continue. “Get going then, ain’t getting any younger here, Daniel.”   
  
Daniel laughed and nodded. “Right yeah… well… yesterday, last night actually, I asked Opal to marry me…”  
  
“And…?” Em asked, sounding hopeful and excited.   
  
Daniel bit his lip before shrugging a little. “She said yes!”   
  
“Oh my god, Daniel!”   
  
Em quickly engulfed him in a hug, Kyburz smiled brightly at the scene, a few others around the room shouted their congratulations.   
  
Pablo looked surprised, shaking his head in disbelief. Kyburz thought he muttered something along the lines of ‘that woman is nuts’ before patting Daniel on the back.   
  
“Good for you, Daniel,” he said, a grin slipped across Pablo’s face. “Does this mean you’re finally going to get lucky?”   
  
Em whacked his chest. “Oh shut up, you disgusting human being, just congratulate the man!”   
  
“I just did.”   
  
“You congratulated his private life.”   
  
“Hey, he’s the only one out of all of us who don’t gotta pay for it,” Pablo shrugged. “Ya gotta give credit where credit’s due, I’m telling ya.”   
  
Daniel laughed while Em scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. Kyburz took a step forward to congratulate Daniel himself, he deserved it after all. The changes the man had made upon himself to get better for Opal were astounding.   
  
Kyburz hardly recognised him as the man he’d first met.   
  
“Congrats, Daniel,” he said, noticing that Em went back to leaning against the support. She was still smiling, but it was a little tight.   
  
“Thanks, Kyburz,” Daniel grinned. “I honestly can’t believe it!”   
  
“Trust me,” Pablo mumbled, fastening his belt. “We can’t believe it either.”   
  
“Good things come to those who wait,” Em said, patting Daniel’s arm. “Daniel waited and look what he got? You’re just jealous.”  
  
“Jealous?” Pablo scoffed, shutting his locker shut. “You think I want to hold myself down with a ball and chain? No thanks, I ain’t bothered with any of that. Got them Eve’s Apple Bettys to keep me company. It’s Kyburz who’s gotta worry,” he hooked a thumb at the Aussie who frowned at him, but Pablo continued. “Even if he gets a date, he’s still gonna be the guy who got a date after Daniel Warren.”   
  
“Least I can get a date,” Kyburz replied hotly.   
  
Honestly, sometimes he really hated Pablo. He had a feeling at least everyone hated Pablo at one point in the day. The man didn’t have a filter and would say exactly what he thought.   
  
Also that was a sore subject for him at the moment, so maybe his pride was a little damaged, he didn’t usually rise to the bait like this. He knew Pablo was just looking for another thread he could pull and pull until he ripped it apart. He liked doing that after all, enjoyed getting people so angry they’d almost be raising their fists.   
  
“What and I can’t?”   
  
“Paying for it doesn’t count,” Em stated. “Now shut up, it’s Daniel’s moment.”   
  
Pablo shrugged, waving her off a moment, before pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “We gonna smoke as a celebration?”   
  
Kyburz frowned at him.“Not in a place with highly flammable liquids you aren’t.”   
  
“Fuck me, we’re in the break room!” He cried, gesturing around him. “Ain’t no liquids to catch fire. What ya say, Daniel?”   
  
“Sure, why not,” Daniel shrugged a little.   
  
Pablo handed out the the cigarettes, he even handed one to Kyburz and he took it. There was a muttered comment of hypocrite, before Kyburz told him to shut up while looking for his lighter.   
  
Didn’t need one though, as Pablo just snapped his fingers and held a flame at the end of his thumb like the demonstrator did last night. Kyburz was shocked Pablo even had it. He knew the Fontaine stores were filled with the Plasmids and Tonics this morning and they would be showing up in stores across Rapture soon, but how the hell did Pablo have it now?   
  
“What the hell?!” Daniel cried as Pablo lit his cigarette.   
  
“Relax, just a Plasmid,” Pablo explained while he lit Em’s cigarette. “Fontaine’s latest product. Hurt like a bitch when I first injected it, but I’ve been burnt before so no big deal,” he shrugged lighting Kyburz’s and finally his own. “They’re pretty neat. Just gotta keep ‘em energised with EVE. Thinkin’ I might go for that electrobolt Plasmid next. Might be good round work.”   
  
“What’s EVE?”   
  
“The energiser that keeps the Plasmids workin’, ya gotta keep it full of energy if ya wanna use it,” he explained taking a drag. “Don’t need it for the tonics I don’t think. Thinking of getting one of those too.”   
  
“What?” Em raised an eyebrow. “They got one that improves personalities?”  
  
“Ain’t my personality that needs changin’, Ms Em.”   
  
“Take a long walk off a short pier.”   
  
Daniel still looked so confused, staring at Pablo’s fingers with questions dancing in his eyes. Of course, Daniel probably had been too preoccupied last night to even know about Plasmids and Tonics. He’d been proposing to Opal after all and probably celebrating after.   
  
They’d only been announced last night, but it seemed Fontaine had worked fast to get them out and put them up in store immediately.   
  
Still didn’t explain how Pablo could have.. oh what was it called? Incinerate or something like that? Well, it didn’t explain how he had that. He hadn’t been at the reveal last night, so just how the hell did he have it? Maybe he made a deal with Fontaine? Kyburz wouldn’t put it past Pablo, he did do a lot of less than ethical work. Though, ethics were lacking in this place, hell they were none existent, practically taboo.   
  
“Where’d you get it?” Kyburz asked. “I didn’t see you at the reveal last night.”   
  
Pablo took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke at the ceiling, before gesturing to Daniel. “Hey, since when was this about me? Ain’t we supposed to be celebrating Daniel’s big ball and chain reveal?”   
  
That was a polite way to say mind your own damn business.   
  
“You guys set a date?” Em asked and Daniel shook his head.  
  
“No, not yet,” he admitted. “Opal wants to take you dress shopping though.”  
  
“Jesus, Ms Em in a dress?” Pablo, looked her up and down, before yelping as she stamped on his foot hard. “Christ, the hell’s wrong with you woman?”   
  
“I’d love to go dress shopping with her, Daniel.”   
  
“You?” Kyburz rose an eyebrow. “Dress shopping? Thought that was impossible.”   
  
“Almost as impossible as you getting a date, Kyburz,” she replied sharply.   
  
Pablo and Daniel shared a look that Kyburz decided to ignore.   
  
Christ that woman could and would be petty and cruel when she felt like it.   
  
“I’ll get a date when you do.”   
  
“Don’t sign yourself up for that,” Pablo said. “You’d never get a chance to wet your whistle.”   
  
“Jesus Christ, Pablo!”  
  
“I’m saying it as it is,” he nudged Daniel. “So come on, blushing bride, wedding bells, who’s the best man gonna be?”  
  
“Not you.”   
  
“I weren’t volunteering.”   
  
“Well, I was actually hoping Kyburz would be,” he smiled at him.   
  
“I’d be honoured.”  
  
“And Opal was hoping that Em would be a bridesmaid,” he smiled at her. “Her sister’s gonna be maid of honour.”   
  
Pablo sniggered. “Damn, Ms Em. You missed your chance.”   
  
“Doesn’t the maid of honour have to dance with the best man?” She mused.   
  
“Err…” Daniel glanced at Pablo who raised an eyebrow back at him. “Yes… she does… though it’s not.. we wouldn’t force that.”   
  
“Good, because Kyburz would step on Rosa’s feet,” she took a drag of her cigarette. “I should know.”   
  
Kyburz glared at her. She was still mad at him and he was starting to get mad at her again. Couldn’t say anything though, he didn’t want to ruin Daniel’s moment. He was happy for once, this was probably going to be the best moment of his life until the actual wedding day.   
  
“Umm…” Daniel gestured between the two of them. “Did something happen between you two?”   
  
“Daniel..” Pablo warned.   
  
“No,” Em said sharply. “I’ll talk to Opal about the dress shopping. Never had so many dresses in my life.”   
  
“Well, ya never know Em,” Daniel grinned. “You could find a date at the wedding.”   
  
Em smiled tightly at him. Pablo had hidden his head in one hand, clearly muttering about how stupid Daniel was. Kyburz on this rare occasion would agree, especially after last night he’d learnt that was subject not to approach Em with.   
  
“Not at the moment,” she said. “I’ve just got a son after all.”   
  
“Maybe the kid could benefit from a father figure,” Kyburz muttered.   
  
“Maybe you could hug a land mine!”   
  
“Oi…” Pablo went wide eyed, stepping away from them. “And you wonder why you’re still single, Ms Em,” walking away from them while she glared at the back of his head.   
  
Kyburz was certain that if she could, she would be burning holes into the back of Pablo’s head. Hey, maybe there was a Plasmid for that. He wouldn’t put it past Fontaine.   
  
Fontaine. Just thinking of the man made his blood boil. Everything was going fine until he stepped into the picture and wrecked everything. Em was spending less and less time with them now, all because she started working for him. Well, she had her son to look after too now, but before then it was ‘I’m working late at Fontaine’s’ this or ‘gotta do some extra wiring for Fontaine’ that.   
  
“Don’t listen to him,” Kyburz said. “Compliments tend to just _hit you in the face_ , don’t they Em?”   
  
She smiled at him, it was a smile that could freeze hell over.   
  
Emilie muttered a quiet good luck and congratulations to Daniel, before leaving, making sure to put her cigarette out on the way. So she was still in a bad mood, best to probably leave her alone. Kyburz himself was still angry with her. Couldn’t she just get rid of that chip on her shoulder?   
  
Daniel came to stand next to him, glancing back at the doorway Em had just left through.   
  
“What’s going on between you two?” He asked softly.   
  
“Nothing. Still, congratulations, Daniel,” he slung an arm over his shoulder, yanking him outside. “Let me know when the date is so I can write my speech.”

* * *

  
Kelly’s grin wouldn’t slip off her face as she packed up her personal items from her desk. Sinclair wasn’t in yet, though she wasn’t complaining about that, Sinclair had a tendency to go on and on. Kelly wanted this to be a quick in and out. Not unlike some of her other clients.   
  
She giggled a little at her own joke.   
  
Last night had been fabulous, not just for the bedroom department, but because of the deal she’d struck with Fontaine. She was now working for him as his secretary at the newly opened Fontaine Futuristics.   
  
Today was her first day, so she’d decided to put more of an effort in by dressing a suit dress that clung to all the right places, with her perfect skin coloured stockings. Well she wanted to look her best after all, especially on her first day.   
  
All she had to do was pick up her personal items from her desk at Sinclair Solutions and she was off.   
  
Just as she packed the last item in her box, the door opened and in stepped Sinclair who looked rather surprised and confused at the box.   
  
“Good mornin’ Kelly,” he frowned. “Now, just where are you off to?”   
  
“I’m sorry, Augustus,” she said, walking around her desk and carrying her box. “But, well, I’m not really sure how to say this…er.. oh!” Her face brightened up in a grin. “I quit!”   
  
“I’m sorry? Would you like to repeat that?”   
  
“Oh, I don’t think I need to,” she scooted around him. “We had our fun, but you see I gotta follow the money. As a businessman… I’m sure you’d understand.”   
  
She pushed the door open with her shoulder, walking down the steps outside the office when Sinclair stopped her. He’d grabbed her arm and she span round to give him a piece of her mind, but he had that disarming smile on his face.   
  
“And just where are you followin’ that money to, Kelly?”   
  
“Why, Frank Fontaine of course,” his smile slipped off his face. “We er… discussed it last night.”   
  
“Oh, I’m sure you did,” he nodded, before gesturing with his other hand at her legs. “Between Christmas and Thanksgiving.”   
  
Kelly smirked cooly at him, leaning a little closer so she could just whisper. “Well, who doesn’t get lonely between the holidays?” She stepped a little closer, getting into his personal space. She knew how to work men. “I mean,” she went on, giving a coy little smile. “You certainly did until I came along.”   
  
“And we both know, that was just business.”  
  
“Hmm.. the best kind,” she stepped away from him, walking backwards and throwing a little smile. “It was fun, Augustus, truly, but there comes a time in a girl’s life when… she’s just gotta move on.”   
  
She turned on her heel, walking calmly away. She didn’t want to be late after all, she didn’t take Mister Fontaine as a man she could placate with a little pout and smile.   
  
“Kelly?”   
  
“Hmm?” She turned back to Sinclair and he held a funny look on his face. She’d go as far to say he looked concerned.   
  
“Just be careful,” he said, pocketing his hands. “Watch yaself round Fontaine.”   
  
“I must admit, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”   
  
“Oh I’ll be havin’ words with ol’ Frankie Fontaine ‘bout stealing workers, don’t you worry.”   
  
She wanted to argue that. Frank hadn’t stolen her, he’d just offered a better deal was all.   
  
“Just, watch yourself around him,” he glanced around, almost like he was nervous of people listening. “You, my dear, sweet, deadly and naive girl, have a tendency to bite off more than you can chew.”  
  
“You know I don’t think I’ve been called naive since I was fourteen years old.”   
  
“And I believe you.”   
  
She sent him a little wink, turning on her heel and marching off. She was done, would never have to work for Sinclair again and with the money she’d get for working for Fontaine… she’d be made for life.   
  
Kelly sighed slightly, taking the Atlantic Express to the Futuristics building. A lot of the workers were staring at her, she just smiled and winked at them. Who would’ve thought a commute to work would be a great place to meet men? Maybe this job would really be the best thing to happen to her.   
  
Stepping off the train she was greeted by Fontaine’s body guard, Reggie something? Em had mentioned him, apparently he was a real gentleman.   
  
“Miss Christie,” he offered a polite smile and tipped his hat to her. “Ya need a hand with that?” He pointed to the box she was carrying.   
  
“Well aren’t you just the gentleman,” she cooed, handing him the box that she’d been carrying with two hands but he hooked it under one arm. “Mister Fontaine ask you to meet me here?”   
  
“Requested I squire ya’ inside, show ya round and to your desk, Miss Christie.”   
  
“Hm. At least Mister Fontaine knows how to treat a lady right,” she smiled taking Reggie’s arm and damn was it big.   
  
She was a little surprised. Yes Reggie was a big man, but she hadn’t quite realised how tall and broad he actually was. He seemed to be sweet enough though, more of a gentle giant, even treated her with respect. Actually looked her in the face when greeting her and not down at her chest like most men did.   
  
“It’s Reggie isn’t it?” She asked looking up at him and he offered her a smile.   
  
“Right you are, Ma’m,” they began walking towards the building, the place was lit up but it wasn’t quite as bright as the rest of Rapture.   
  
It felt colder and less welcoming.   
  
Still, she couldn’t deny the power that radiated off the building itself, it really did scream that Fontaine was in charge down here. She didn’t even think any of Ryan’s influence could reach this place. This was all Frank Fontaine’s and Andrew Ryan wasn’t getting a piece of it.  
  
“Well, Reggie,” she cooed. “You’re certainly well built,” she looked him up and down. “I feel like you’re awfully wasted in an office job.”   
  
“And you’re impressive from every angle, Miss Christie,” he smiled. “Sure you ain’t the one wasted in this job?”   
  
“My aren’t you a flirt,” she giggled, playing along.  
  
“Just honest, Ma’m.”   
  
They reached the main door and now there was no party going on, Kelly could actually look at the building properly. The room was just as impressive as the outside was. Huge arches and decorated chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A water feature rested in the centre of the room, with a depiction of a globe resting over the top of it. Some plant life decorated the centre of the staircase with a waterfall flowing and leading to the water feature.   
  
At the top of the staircase was Fontaine, talking to that Limey woman and they both paused when Kelly and Reggie entered the room.   
  
Fontaine smiled at her, that charming and charismatic smile he’d flashed her last night and when he’d asked her to accompany him to the opening of the building itself. Of course, they ended up not attending the party, but oh well. She’d had a lot more fun then she would’ve done just hanging off his arm all evening.   
  
“Miss Christie,” he started to walk down the stairs, voice pleasant and welcoming.  
  
She wasn’t sure what Em hated about the man, he did cut a fine figure in that suit. You wouldn’t see Kelly complaining about the view.   
  
He gestured to the building around them, still walking over to Reggie and herself.   
  
“Welcome to Fontaine Futuristics,” he took her hand and they shook, completely professional, she’d played this game before. Be professional in the presence of other company but in private well… anything could happen.   
  
“Mister Fontaine,” she battered her eyelashes a little, she just couldn’t help herself. “I’m looking forward to working for you and this fine establishment.”

* * *

  
_Kelly Christie,_   
  
_What they’ve been working on:_   
  
_So that’s what Fontaine’s been having his pencil pushers working on. Plasmids and tonics. I’ll pass thank you, shoot em ups have never appealed, I prefer the nose candy to the shooting galleries._   
  
_Ava’s got another party tonight, something tells me plasmids and tonics might be on the agenda._   
  
_I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I may be giving this one a miss._


	16. My Sister and I

_Opal Delores,_   
  
_Engaged!:_   
  
_I’m engaged! Oh my god, oh my god! I have to tell my sister! I’ve… oh I’ve got so much to do! Plan the wedding, get the dress, write to the guests! I’m engaged! Daniel proposed and I’m engaged! I… oh I need to get the wedding cake and the flowers and the dress, the dress is the key._   
  
_There’s just so much to do!_

* * *

  
The medical pavilion was far more packed than usual and considerably more hectic. There were people and nurses everywhere. A few workman that looked an awful lot like delivery men were rushing through carry crates with the Fontaine Futuristics logo on it.   
  
Rosa was working in the middle of this chaos, checking and signing off the deliveries. Apparently there was some new equipment being shipped in, as well as this new miracle drug, ADAM.   
  
ADAM was the stuff Fontaine used to make his plasmids and the medical pavilion had ordered plenty of those too. Plasmids and tonics to use for medical purposes as well as the use for cosmetic surgery.   
  
Doctor Steinman had been at the reveal and straight away ordered this large sum for his practice and a few for himself. He was insisted that all nurses and doctors should have the electrobolt plasmid so they would no longer need the paddles. Get rid of another piece of useless equipment taking up unnecessary space.   
  
Rosa herself was impressed with the Plasmids and Tonics, who wouldn’t be? They were a clear sign that Rapture was moving forward. That the scientific and medical community were prospering and for the added boost it was backed by Frank Fontaine himself.   
  
They needed that kind of funding. The medical pavilion needed that kind of funding without a doubt, Ryan had practically abandoned them, but Fontaine did seem interested.   
  
“Rosa!”   
  
She span around to see her sister running over to her with the biggest grin. It was the happiest she’d ever seen her. Maybe she’d made it big finally? Maybe someone finally recognised her for the talented individual she was?   
  
“Hey, Opal,” she smiled. “You’re look amazing, what’s got you in such a good mood?”   
  
“You remember Daniel?”  
  
“Of course,” she smiled, resting her clipboard against her hip. “You two are so good together. Honestly, made for each other. What’s going on?”   
  
Instead of speaking, Opal held up her left hand to show a simple silver ring on her ring finger with an opal stone resting directly in the middle of it.   
  
Rosa’s eyes widened and she looked up at her sister to get confirmation that what she was seeing she was actually seeing.   
  
If the thousand watt smile on her sister’s face was anything to go by, yes she was right in her understanding.  
  
A grin slowly spread on to Rosa’s face. “Are you serious?”   
  
Opal squealed and nodded her head. “Yes!”  
  
“Really?”   
  
“Yes!”   
  
“Oh my goodness, Opal!” She quickly pulled her sister into a hug, a few people stared at them, but she didn’t pay them any mind.   
  
Her sister was engaged, her sister was going to get married and maybe start a family. She was going to be an aunty. Their little two person family was going to get bigger and better, everything was going to get better, she could just feel it.   
  
Pulling away from her, she wiped at her eyes to catch any tears of joy that might of slipped out. “Well, do you have a date, a dress?”   
  
“No, no, not yet,” Opal gasped. “He only proposed last night.”   
  
“Last night?!” Rosa gaped at her, before whacking her arm lightly. “Why didn’t you call me?”   
  
Opal gave her an impish smile. “Well, honey I was a little busy… celebrating with Daniel all evening,” she paused and gave a little wink. “And maybe a little in the morning too..”   
  
“Oh dear lord, too much information,” Rosa waved at her and Opal cackled, still smiling. She seemed to be glowing.   
  
Gosh, things really were changing and so fast. Em with her son, Opal was now engaged, Cammie had found Sarah… just so much in such a short space of time. They weren’t young girls anymore, they were young women, they were growing up.   
  
Rosa had a job in a field she enjoyed and everyone else were starting families and getting married, Kelly was still being Kelly. Rosa didn’t think that woman would ever change. She’d be in her sixties and still insist she was some young filly with an hourglass figure.   
  
“I’m so happy for you, for both of you!”   
  
Opal looked around the room, still smiling but now she looked confused. “What’s with all the hustle and bustle?”   
  
“Oh never mind that,” Rosa waved her off. “You have to tell me more! Have you picked your maid of honour?”   
  
“Honey I thought that would be a given,” she raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s obviously gonna be you, Rosa. No one else it could be.”   
  
Rosa’s smile grew on her face and she was quick to engulf her sister in another bone crushing hug.   
  
Yes things were going to get so much better. Things could only get better, Rapture really was a paradise, just like Andrew Ryan had promised.   
  
Everything was going to be just fine, she could feel it.

* * *

  
“That brain boost Tonic really does work you know. I’ve ordered more of the ADAM, I’m going to see what it could do for my surgery. You never know, might be just the thing I needed all this time.”   
  
Cohen raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine around in his glass as he listened to Steinman babble on and on about the ADAM and whatever else Fontaine had cooked up in that lab of his.   
  
The surgeon and the artist were sitting in the Kashmir Restaurant having an early lunch, since Steinman had ADAM to deal with and Cohen was always busy. He was putting on a show near enough every night, painting up a new canvas almost every hour, there was no time to socialise.   
  
Though, he had made time to speak to Steinman. He admired the man’s work and they were friends. Both artists in their own respected fields, Cohen would always be infinitely impressed of Steinman’s work with a scalpel. A true sculptor of flesh, Cohen simply had to admire him.   
  
It seemed though, Steinman was now obsessed with the power of Plasmids and Tonics. Ever since the show, it had been all anyone was talking about and then they were on the shelves the very next day.   
  
Cohen had been there and seen it all, he himself had taken some of the free samples, but he hadn’t used any yet. He wasn’t much of a fan of shoot it ups, much preferring the nose candy. He hated injections at the doctors, but this was something different. Something interesting and fun.   
  
Still, he was hesitant, but listening to Steinman go on and on about how brilliant these Tonics were, well, maybe he’d take his tonight.   
  
Steinman was clearly already using them, the man hadn’t stopped talking and was speaking at a mile a minute. Something Steinman never did. He always sounded so methodical when he spoke, Cohen thought, but now he was talking like he would run out of time to say all he needed to say.  
  
His eyes were a little wide too and he expressed all his words with arm gestures, waving his steak knife around like it was no big deal, holding it loosely in his fingers. Cohen would watch the blade out of the corner of his eyes as it wobbled haphazardly in the surgeons grip.   
  
“Steinman, my dear fellow,” he interrupted leaning a little forward and uncrossing his legs. “Would I be correct in understanding that you have already taken your free sample?”   
  
“Yes,” Steinman grinned at him. “I feel so much more awake, so much more energised! I might take that sports boost, it may improve my speed. I could get through patients faster!”   
  
Sander leaned away quickly as Steinman did an arch with his knife wielding hand, but the surgeon didn’t seem to notice.   
  
“Yes, quite,” Cohen took a thoughtful sip of his wine. “I haven’t taken any of mine yet. I’d very much like to, but oh, I do hate needles.”   
  
“Oh yes, needles sting a little,” Steinman nodded digging into his meal again. “Makes me wish Fontaine would develop a type you could breath in or drink, maybe even snort you know? Like the white powder?’   
  
“Yes,” Cohen’s eyes flickered around. “Though should a member of the medical practice so willing admit to taking cocaine in a public place?”   
  
Steinman shrugged, not looking the least bit fazed. “It’s Rapture, we can do anything here, remember?” He was waving that knife around again. “No one cares! No ethics or.. morality, we just do what we want,” he pointed the knife at Cohen. “How else do you think Fontaine was able to make these things in the first place?”   
  
“To be perfectly honest with you,” Cohen said, leaning back and crossing his legs again. “It hadn’t really crossed my mind. Why should it? As an artist,” he said dramatically. “I have far more important things to think about than silly little science experiments.”   
  
Steinman snorted, taking a bite out of the fish on his plate. He pushed it around his plate a moment, collecting some of the source and juices. He glanced at Cohen and grinned at him, that special little smile that usually hinted towards the more macabre side of Steinman.   
  
That was the side of the Doctor, Cohen most enjoyed. It was the more inventive and creative side of him that very few got to see, but Cohen was allowed to see it. He could see it because there was a side of himself that was very similar.   
  
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sander,” Steinman went on, taking a bite of the fish on his fork. “You can’t make things that alter and effect human genetics without testing it on a few humans first.”   
  
If Cohen was anyone else, he’d probably find Steinman’s utter delight about human test subjects disturbing, but Cohen was not like everyone else. He wasn’t trapped in the box of petty morality and silly ethics, he was an artist! Artists created and showed the world for what it could be, it was an artist’s job to challenged the world around him.   
  
There was also the fact that Cohen found it all too amusing when Steinman got that glint in his eye and got excited at the very idea of something so awful. He appreciated the irony of it.   
  
“I see,” Cohen took another thoughtful sip of his wine. Dear god the stuff tasted dreadful, but it was all you could get out on the town. He’d have to have the proper stuff back at home, where it was safely locked away so Ryan couldn’t go poking around.   
  
Sander did adore Ryan, truly he thought the man was astounding and certainly it was a thrill to listen to him speak, but the man did tend to cut out all the fun in this world.   
  
That was, of course, until it concerned his own pleasure. Cohen had seen Ryan walk out of Eve’s Garden in Fort Frolic enough times. He wasn’t a fool, he knew what was going on.   
  
There was a reason that Jasmine girl’s poster proclaimed her to be Andrew Ryan’s ‘favourite’ after all.   
  
Cohen didn’t really see the appeal, but he’d never seen the appeal of women anyway.   
  
“So,” he went on, swirling the wine around in his glass. “Mister Fontaine is running experiments on people?”  
  
“Not just him,” Steinman shrugged. “A lot of Doctors are. It’s a…well known secret, if you will? Besides, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”   
  
“Hm. One would only wish the artistic society was thriving as well,” Sander sighed, leaning back in his chair. “My disciples are boring me. They just don’t have the passion, the fire!” He frowned at the table a moment as he recalled those other problems. “And that Ada woman is irritating, not to mention that I have to put up with that uncultured _bitch_ , LaLorna!”   
  
Steinman took a sip of his own drink listening to Cohen complain. “I’m truly sorry you have to put up with such people, Sander.”   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
“Even if you do surround yourself with them.”   
  
“I beg your pardon?!”   
  
Steinman shrugged a little. “You put yourself in the position to deal with them. You spend all your time in Fort Frolic, which as far as I’m aware, is the only place those idiots spend any of their time. You have no where that’s your own space,” he shrugged and went back to his fish. “You see, I too have to put up with imbeciles, but I have my own practice where I can disappear to so-.”   
  
“That’s it!”   
  
Steinman jumped as Cohen suddenly shouted, standing up and slamming his hand against the table. It also caught the attention of the other restaurant goers and they were all staring at Cohen who held a manic glint in his eyes.   
  
Steinman blinked, eyes flickering around the room a moment at all the faces staring at the two of them, before landing back on Cohen.   
  
“What’s it?” He asked dumbly.   
  
Honestly with Cohen’s constant mood swings it was hard to keep up with just what the mad artist was talking about.  
  
“I need my own space,” he leaned on his chair, pointing across the table at Steinman. “Like you have your own practice! I need a place that is solely for myself and a chosen few that I deem acceptable.”   
  
“So… a club?”   
  
“Yes, yes!” He slapped his hand against the table, grinning widely at Steinman. “A club, a place where Sander Cohen can truly create his master pieces! Where I can lock out those bores and.. doubters! A place where I shall share my creative genius with a select few,” he circled around the table to rest his hands on Steinman’s shoulders, leaning down to his ear. “Oh, Steinman, my dear, dear Doctor Steinman,” he simpered. “Your talents and skills are truly wasted in that little practice, I could take you to the stars, if you’d only let me.”  
  
“I’m fine where I am,” he patted at one of Cohen’s hands. “Now, off. You’re making a scene.”   
  
“Oh, an artist is always making a scene, my dear Steinman,” he patted his arm. “Thank you, my dear fellow. You have solved one of the greatest problems of my career!”   
  
“Happy to be of service, please sit down,” he gestured to the seat. “You haven’t finished your wine.”   
  
Cohen scoffed pushed away from Steinman, picking up the wine glass and holding it up to the light, examining the way the lights of Rapture dance and flickered through the red substance.   
  
“This shit you can hardly call wine! Even me, with my artistic talents and extended imagination, cannot begin to call this watered down nothingness wine!”   
  
He slammed the glass down causing the table to shake and for some of the liquid to spill over, staining the table cloth underneath.  
  
“No!” He continued, grabbing his jacket and scarf, slipping them on in one motion, straightening out the purple silk scarf afterwards. “There is work to be done, my dear Steinman, I have a club I must create!”   
  
With that, Sander Cohen was gone in a whirlwind, battering at anyone that got in his way. When he had an idea, he would execute it and no one and nothing would get in his way.   
  
Steinman sighed, turning back to his food and cutting up the fish again. “Well he is right,” he mused more to himself than the staring customers. “The wine really is awful.”

* * *

  
“What do you make of it, Chief?”   
  
Sullivan frowned at the whisky in his hand, glancing up at Bill who held his own drink.   
  
They were sitting in Sullivan’s office, situated in the upper Wharf of Neptune’s Bounty. It was cold in this place, so both men still had their jackets on. Sullivan himself hated this office and he hated where it was, but Ryan had insisted. He wanted to catch these smugglers and wanted Sullivan as close to the activity as possible.   
  
He knew he should feel honoured that Ryan had trusted him with the task of capturing these guys, but he wasn’t sure if he’d have the heart to follow through with it. Oh yeah, beforehand he would’ve done, but now they were hanging people. Hanging people for bringing in contraband.   
  
It just didn’t sit well with Sullivan. Persephone had been pushing it, but he’d reasoned it was a prison, no harm in having a prison. Every time Sullivan went there though, it seemed the inmates would rotate. Some would be in different cells, some would be in the medical wing, others Sullivan had only seen once and never again.  
  
He’d asked Sinclair about it, but the man was almost impossible to get a straight answer out of. He ran a funny little spiel about those folks being rehabilitated and were probably out and about working again. You just had to look for them.   
  
Sullivan had looked for them and he came up empty. Just mentioning some of the poor sod’s names to people had them clamming up faster than you could blink.   
  
He’d asked Sinclair again and again got the same answer, along with a shrug.   
  
Sullivan was insulted that Sinclair thought he’d be that stupid, but he later decided that whatever had happened to those poor sods he probably didn’t want to know.   
  
He’d stopped looking after that.  
  
Now, there were Plasmids to worry about. Sure Fontaine made a pretty good sales pitch and they were fancy all right, but just what the hell was he supposed to do if those things fell in the wrong hands.   
  
Secretly, Sullivan thought that those Plasmids falling into the hands of anyone in Rapture were the ‘wrong hands’, he wouldn’t want some of the more loopy kind of Doctors getting their hands on them, that was for damn sure.   
  
Bill was worried about the Plasmids too, it was why he was here in the first place. He’d wanted to talk about them, go over what the Chief thought of these things.   
  
“Honestly?” Sullivan rose an eyebrow at him and Bill nodded. “Honestly,” Sullivan went on, a grimace on his face. “I think they’re a stupid idea. I mean, you and I, Bill. We know what some of the folks in Rapture are like. What they’re really like,” he paused a moment. “I can name a few I wouldn’t want to see using that stuff.”   
  
“Especially that incinerate Plasmid,” Bill said, taking a swig of his drink. “Who’s to say that some maniac doesn’t just decide to light more than a match? We’ve only got a limited supply of oxygen-.”   
  
“Which Fontaine also sells.”   
  
“Right! Some idiot lights up something just a bit more than a match and those who don’t burn to death, well, they may very well suffocate.”  
  
“It’s awfully convenient,” Sullivan mumbled. “Don’t ya’ think? Fontaine sells these things that can create accidents, but then I hear he’s thinkin’ of starting up a fire department. I mean, on paper, sure we could use one, but-.”   
  
“It’s ran by Fontaine, Chief,” Bill looked tired. “You don’t have to go explainin’ anything to me. It’s Mister Ryan you’ve gotta talk to.”   
  
“Already tried,” Sullivan frowned. “You know he won’t do anything, Bill. It’s against his principles. Free market and all that, plus… I think he likes Fontaine.”   
  
“Likes him? He hates him.”   
  
“Yeah, personality wise he might,” Sullivan took a gulp of his drink. “I sure don’t see ‘em breakin’ bread together, but he likes him as competition. It’s why he’s so reluctant to investigate this smugglin’ business,” Sullivan laughed and shook his head at the stupidity of it all. “I’d think he’d rather tell Fontaine to stop and he does, than get rid of him permanently.”   
  
Bill frowned, staring at his drink again. He really did look tired, hell they both did. Sullivan had seen himself in the mirror this morning and sweet baby Jesus did he look rough. He hadn’t been sleeping too great and this job was stressing him out more than he originally thought it would.   
  
He’d signed up because hey, easy job, what’s he gonna need to do in a Utopia? Boy was he wrong. It took him off his feet, he’d barely had a chance to sit down, but at least this thief really had, well and truly gone. That was good news, the only bit of good news he’d had in a while.   
  
“And now there’s Lamb, too.”   
  
“Oi.. don’t remind me,” Sullivan sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “You been seeing some of the bull she’s been conjurin’ up? Her followers have been wearing those pins.. ya know the butterfly badges?”  
  
“Yeah, I seen ‘em. Few of the lads down in Hephestus have been wearing ‘em,” Bill explained, taking a gulp of his drink, finishing it and slamming it down on the table. “They say she’s been helping them when Ryan left ‘em to rot. I hate to say it, Chief, but they’re not wrong.”   
  
Sullivan waved him off, sighing and finishing his own drink. Yeah, no they weren’t wrong. They were spot on right, not that Ryan would hear anything of it. He wouldn’t be told that his great utopia wasn’t working. Hell, Ryan wouldn’t listen about the structural issues, so political ones that involved dancing around the word ‘charity’ were certainly off the table.   
  
“You think I don’t know that?” He huffed, pouring more whisky into his glass. “I have to go down there every other week and settle some sort of dispute. Plasmids are just gonna make it worse,” he put down the bottle, taking the glass in hand and staring at the amber liquid. “All it’s gonna take is some insecure little nobody to suddenly get it in their head they’re a somebody and start burning stuff to the ground.”   
  
Bill pondered this, going quiet again, looking to be in deep thought. This whole Plasmid business was going to open up a whole new type of ball game, that much was obvious.   
  
Sure, Fontaine was advertising it as something to make living in Rapture _easier_ , but Sullivan had a feeling in his gut that it was going to do the exact opposite.   
  
“What do you think we should do, Chief?”   
  
“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “For now… we can’t do anything. The best thing we can do at the moment, Bill…” he took a gulp of whisky and proceeded to pour himself another glass. “Is drink and pray that things don’t get any worse.”   
  
It was a silly jest. A stupid joke to try and calm the growing tension they were both feeling. It was also a futile effort.   
  
Sullivan and Bill both knew that things were only going to get worse from here and how much worse? Well, only time would tell.

* * *

  
_J.S.Steinman,_   
  
_ADAM’s Changes:_   
  
_Ryan and ADAM, ADAM and Ryan… All those years of study, and was I ever truly a surgeon before I met them?_   
  
_How we plinked away with our scalpels and toy morality. Yes, we could lop a boil here, and shave down a beak there, but… but could we really change anything? No. But ADAM gives us the means to do it. And Ryan fees us from the phoney ethics that held up back. Change your look, change your sex, change your race. It’s yours to change, nobody else’s._


	17. Twelfth Street Rag

_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_How the story ends:_  
  
 _Kids gotta go. That damn kid has to go. It’s like lookin in a mirror, cept I’m lookin in the past and havin it reflected right back at me._  
  
 _His… relationship with Em is off puttin too. Reminds me so much of…_  
  
 _Brat looks too much like me too. Damn it all, even Reggie and Limey are gettin sentimental. Have to keep reminding them it ain’t me. Gotta keep reminding myself that too. The whole… twisted scenario feels like some sort of cruel joke. Like the universe is laughin at me. I’ve seen this story play out before… I already know how it ends._

* * *

  
Clayton sniffed and rubbed at his black eye.   
  
The kids around Pauper’s Drop weren’t very nice. They teased him constantly about being an orphan, that his Mama wasn’t really his Mama and then they picked on the fact that he was small. Clayton was little for other kids his age, he knew that, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt.   
  
Still, he’d gotten into a fight because he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He pushed the bigger kid and the bigger kid pushed back, just a lot harder than Clayton could and he’d tumbled to the floor. Then the boy was on top of him and punching, until some adults came and broke them up. Clayton had ran off, quickly finding his way back home.   
  
He’d sat and waited for his Mama to come home, she’d been so shocked when she saw him. Horrified even, running over and trying desperately to fix his injuries. He had a band aid over his nose from a cut, scraped up elbows and a black eye, with a cut lip.   
  
She’d asked what had happened. Clayton shrugged and said he’d tripped and fell. It wasn’t even believable, but she seemed like she didn’t want to push him until he was ready. So instead it was back to Fontaine Futuristics.   
  
Clayton wasn’t even supposed to be with her, she’d taken to leaving him at home because he’d gotten more confident and didn’t feel like she was going to abandon him and not come back. Like his first parents had, he couldn’t remember them very well, but he remembered them leaving.   
  
Now though, she wanted him with her, probably to keep an eye on him and make sure everything was okay. She’d ask every so often if his eye still hurt and he’d lie. His Mama was worried about him, he didn’t want to make her even more worried. If she got too worried she might think she couldn’t look after him and then abandon him.   
  
He was being silly, deep down he knew that, but it was still an idea that scared him.   
  
Clayton watched while his mother worked, but when it came to the labs, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go with her. His Mama didn’t like the labs and wouldn’t talk to him about them. She just said they were dark and cold, not really places he’d want to go.   
  
She was right, Clayton didn’t like the dark, it reminded him of the air vents he’d lived in.   
  
“C’mon,” his Mama said softly, reaching and taking his hand. “Lets go and find Reggie, he’ll keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”   
  
She helped him up the stairs, Mister Reggie was usually on the second floor because that was were Mister Fontaine was. His office was up here and the words ‘the office of Frank Fontaine’ were resting above the door. Clayton had never been in Mister Fontaine’s office, but he was curious. He’d always wanted to see inside, especially after seeing the super powers Mister Fontaine was selling. Maybe there’d be secret plans for the next set of super powers?   
  
Mister Reggie wasn’t there, but Aunt Kelly was. Clayton didn’t know she worked here, neither did his Mama if her reaction was anything to go by.   
  
Clayton didn’t really listen as his Mama and Aunt Kelly talked, he was staring at the Mister Fontaine’s office doors. They were shut, just like they always were, he’d never even gotten a peak inside.   
  
Suddenly, Aunt Kelly grabbed his face, turning him to look at her and he smiled but she looked worried. Just like how Mama had been worried when she first saw his face.   
  
“Oh, Clayton, honey what happened?”   
  
“I tripped and fell.”   
  
Kelly rose and eyebrow, glancing up at Emilie who shrugged. They did this weird silent communication that adults did, it was something Clayton was excited to learn. To be able to share whole conversations just be looks and glances. He wondered how adults did it.   
  
“Where’s Reggie?”   
  
“Oh, down at the Fisheries with Fontaine. They’ll be back in about half an hour or so, they might even be heading back now,” Aunt Kelly shrugged. “Why?”   
  
“I need someone to watch Clayton while I work in the labs,” Em said, biting her lip and looking around the corridor. “I usually ask Reggie. He’s good with kids.”   
  
“I’ll look after him.” Em rose an eyebrow. “You?”  
  
“Sure,” Kelly bent down and picked Clayton up, sitting back down on her chair and resting him on her knees. “I have some paper, he could draw for a bit.”   
  
“You’ve never looked after a kid before have you?” Em crossed her arms. “That won’t keep him occupied for long.”   
  
“I’ll figure something out, go,” Kelly waved her hand. “I can handle a man in the bedroom, I’m sure I can handle a kid.”   
  
“Why do you have to handle men in the bedroom, Aunty Kelly?”   
  
Kelly blushed and laughed a little nervously. She ruffled his hair and set on a spare chair, pushing some paper and a pencil over to him. Aunt Kelly didn’t answer him, instead insisting that Em leave because she would be fine and that Clayton wouldn’t be a problem.   
  
His Mama gave in, quickly gave him a hug and a kiss, promising that she wouldn’t be long. Then she turned and marched off to deal with the labs.   
  
Clayton missed her already. He liked helping his Mama with her job, he’d sit holding the torch or sometimes he’d hand her the tools she needed. He’d learnt all of the tools names after all and he loved being able to help. He found what his Mama did interesting.   
  
Fifteen minutes passed and then twenty, Mama had been right, Clayton was bored. He glanced at his aunt who was busy tapping away at her typewriter, before looking back at Mister Fontaine’s office.   
  
There was no one here and Aunt Kelly was very focussed on her typewriter, still Clayton knew he’d have to be quick and not get caught.   
  
Carefully and quietly, he hoped off his chair and crouched down on the floor. He was quiet when he wanted to be, all those months of living on the streets and having to sneak around had taught him how to be quiet and unseen. He had already crawled past Kelly’s desk and was silently making it up the steps to Mister Fontaine’s office. She didn’t spot him at all, probably still thought he was drawing or maybe even forgot that he was there.   
  
Carefully, Clayton got to his feet and gently opened the door to Fontaine’s office, slipping inside and letting the door shut.   
  
Clayton wasn’t sure what he was expecting but the huge statue of a… bear was it? Yeah, a bear, that wasn’t what he’d been expecting, nor were the paintings along the long walk up to Mister Fontaine’s desk.   
  
The room felt cold and powerful, a bit like the ocean outside or Mister Fontaine himself.  
  
Slowly, the little boy walked along the the carpet looking around. He stared at the paintings of Mister Fontaine for a moment, because they made the man look like he was in charge. There was also a smugness to the smile on his face, like he was confident, but the eyes… there was something different in the eyes. Clayton didn’t know what it was, he’d never seen it before in anyone else’s eyes.   
  
Still, he walked on, stopping at the desk. The desk itself was on a platform that you had to walk up to. It made Mister Fontaine taller than everyone else, he’d be looking down on anyone who entered to talk to him. Behind the chair at Mister Fontaine’s desk was the bear statue that had first caught Clayton’s eye when he entered the office.   
  
He looked back at the door cautiously. No one came through, so he calmed down, but then a painting caught his eye. It was a painting of a family, that man looked like Mister Fontaine, but it couldn’t be because Mister Fontaine didn’t have a family. Not unless you counted Miss Limey and Mister Reggie, but Clayton had a feeling they were more friends than family.   
  
The boy in the painting stared back at him, no smile on his face, it reminded Clayton of himself when he lived on the streets. The coldness and the distance, you couldn’t afford to feel emotions, but now he could. He didn’t have to protect himself anymore and it felt so good to smile. Speaking of smiling, the only person in the whole painting that was, was the Mister Fontaine lookalike.   
  
Clayton didn’t like the painting, it felt so fake and cold. Almost like a joke directed at the idea of ‘family’, mocking the sentiment of it. He also didn’t like the man’s look, it was the same as the other paintings. The smile seemed friendly enough, but the eyes… there was something off about them. They weren’t cold and dead like the boy and the woman’s eyes in the painting, they.. just had something to them. Maybe a coldness, but a different type of coldness. Coldness directed at everyone else, not directed inwards like the woman and boy’s were.   
  
He turned away from the painting, walking up the steps and reaching the desk and chair.   
  
The desk was mostly empty, save for a few pens and a lamp. It felt just as empty as the office did really.   
  
He grimaced, glancing at the chair and a smile grew on his face. It would be a bit naughty, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, no one else here would know, it would just be Clayton.   
  
Clayton climbed into the seat, sitting down and wiggling to get comfy. He stared over the desk and at the rest of the office. From this vantage point everything else looked quite small. If anyone came in, Clayton would feel like he was in charge, he was above them. He had more money than they did, look at this big office, this was all his.   
  
He giggled and span around in the chair, pushing off the desk with his feet. He kicked his legs out as he span, pulling them back when he came close to the desk so he didn’t hit them.   
  
He wanted an office like this, maybe with a few more toys in it, but he wanted an office just like this. He wanted to be a successful businessman like Mister Fontaine so he could buy his Mama a better home. One where the heating worked and the elevator didn’t break.   
  
They’d have a big house and their own bathysphere and Mama would be in charge of her own business and everyone would be nice to her. He’d have all the toys he’d ever want and he wouldn’t have to worry about the bigger boys picking on him. He’d be able to look after his Mama and keep her safe, just like she was doing with him.   
  
“I want those documents now, Miss,” he said to no one, sitting back in the chair and spinning it around again. “Yes, Mister Clayton!” He giggled, pushing off the desk again until he was facing the windows, staring out at the city of Rapture.   
  
The view was amazing, he could see the entire city from here, he could see all the fish and sharks. He liked looking out the widows, there was always something new to see and when he saw a new creature he didn’t know, he’d ask his Mama. When she told him, Clayton would look through his animal book to try and find the creature and learn more. He was curious, he wanted to know more about the world around him.   
  
He was mostly curious about the surface, but he didn’t say anything. Sometimes he’d ask his Mama about the surface and she’d tell him about grass and the sky. He wanted to see it.   
  
“What’s so bad about the surface anyway?” He mused, staring up at the ceiling. “It can’t be that bad? Just a peak won’t hurt… right?”   
  
Clayton yelped as the chair was suddenly span around and he was suddenly face to face with Fontaine. Well, it was more face to hips, he looked up at Fontaine who was smirking at him with a raised eyebrow. He looked amused that Clayton was even here in the first place. Better question, how long had Mister Fontaine been here?   
  
“Mister Fontaine!” He spluttered, blinking at him and a blush spread up Clayton’s face at being caught.   
  
“Nice shiner, kid,” he gestured to Clayton’s black eye and the little boy reached up to touch it, but Fontaine battered his hand away. “Don’t touch it, you’ll make it worse.”   
  
“Oh…. Sorry…” he looked down at his lap, biting his lip and not daring to look at Fontaine.   
  
“No skin off my back. Knock ya’self out with makin’ it worse all ya’ want kid. Now,” he stood at the aside and gestured with his hand. “Scoot. Ain’t your office is it?”   
  
Clayton went red. “Did I say that out loud?”   
  
Fontaine smirked. “Ya’ might of done. Now shift.”   
  
Clayton quickly scrambled out of the seat and stood at the side, while Fontaine sat down. The man ignored him as he pulled out a key and began to unlock draws in the desk. He’d probably expected Clayton to leave.   
  
The man casted a glance at his watch for a moment and grimaced. His eyes flickered to Clayton for a second, looking him over with his scruffy shirt and bruised face. That was a look he was all too familiar with.   
  
Frank looked at his watch again, mulling it over in his mind. Well, he had some time to kill, he supposed he could humour Clayton just a little. Be a bit of entertainment to mess with the kid just a bit.   
  
“Just how did that happen anyway.”   
  
Clayton froze, looking up at Fontaine with wide eyes.   
  
“Are… are you talking to me, Mister Fontaine?”   
  
“No I’m talking to the bear behind me,” Fontaine rolled his eyes.   
  
“But bears can’t ta-,” he stopped at the look Fontaine was giving him and finally it clicked. “Oh. Um, I fell.”   
  
“In to what?”   
  
“A… door handle..”   
  
Fontaine stared at him for a good few seconds. He didn’t look impressed, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Did this door handle happen’ to be fist shaped? Gotta say I ain’t seen any of those before.”   
  
Clayton looked down biting his lip.   
  
He heard Fontaine sigh. Clayton didn’t look up, even as Mister Fontaine did and seemed to be messing with his drinks table underneath the painting of the family.   
  
Clayton nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Fontaine holding a cloth that he’d bunched up, but there was a wet stain on it, seeping through the material.   
  
“Here kid, put some ice on it,” he just about shoved the cloth and ice into his hands, before he Fontaine took his wrist and directed him to rest it over his eye. “It’ll help with the swellin’. Don’t take it off either, or do, I really don’t care,” he sat back down, facing Clayton now. “What I do care about is ya Ma doin’ good work and she ain’t gonna do that when she’s frettin’ about you. So you’re gonna tell her the truth, ya hear me?”   
  
That sentence alone left a bad taste in Fontaine’s mouth. Tell the truth? When in the hell did he ever tell the truth? Still he was right, Em would be concerned about the kid. Mothers were always worrying about the little snot and spit machines they’d made or in this case, found.   
  
Frank didn’t get it. What was there to like? Kids were noisy and loud. They through tantrums if they didn’t get what they wanted and they were just plain irritating, Clayton would be no different.   
  
“I.. I don’t want her to worry.”   
  
“Kid, she’s already worryin’,” he rubbed his eyes looking irritated. “Why in the hell do ya not want to tell her?”   
  
“Because she’ll worry more and… I wasn’t supposed to go out the house but I heard some other kids and-,” he snapped his mouth shut looking away.   
  
“Jesus Christ.. so ya’ got beaten up?” Fontaine snorted. “Big deal. Grow a back bone kid, hit ‘em back.”   
  
“I tried!” He snapped at Fontaine looking angry. “But they were mean.”   
  
“Oh, they were, were they?” He laughed shaking his head. “Kids are mean. Get used to it, because they ain’t gonna get any nicer, only thing you can do is get a little tougher.”   
  
Like Clayton didn’t know that already. Kids were always mean, always name calling and pushing him around. He’d tried to push back and look what happened. His face hurt a lot, his eye especially. He should’ve just stayed in the house like his Mama had asked him, but he was curious. He wanted to make friends and his Mama hadn’t found a school she liked and could afford yet. She was looking.   
  
Clayton would sometimes find her still sitting on the sofa going over her notes and prices.   
  
Mister Fontaine didn’t seem to understand that or he didn’t care.   
  
Clayton thought that Mister Fontaine was the most amazing person he’d ever met. He’d built his company from nothing and now he was selling super powers, he had to admire him. He wanted to be just like him in the end. He wanted his own business so he and his Mama would be safe.   
  
He kicked at the ground and mumbled under his breath.   
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Fontaine said, dramatically putting a hand to his ear. “Ya’ wanna repeat that again, bucko?”  
  
He glared at Fontaine. He was making fun on him, Clayton realised and he felt that anger from before rise up again.   
  
“I said they were making fun of me because I’m an orphan!” Clayton’s lip trembled a little. “Sayin’ that my real Mama didn’t want me and.. and making fun of me because I’m little… I’m not that little! Just didn’t eat much…”   
  
Fontaine was quiet. When Clayton looked up at him, it seemed like the man was having a battle with himself. He was staring at Clayton like he’d seen a ghost or was reminded of something he didn’t want to think about. He’d seen a similar look on his Mama’s face when she had a bad dream.   
  
“Well,” Fontaine started after being silent for longer than what Clayton thought was a good thing. “I’d say…that line ‘bout ya real Ma not wantin’ ya is utter bullshit,” he pointed towards the office door. “‘Cause ya real Ma is out there and she’s not thinkin’ of letting ya gone any time soon. Hell, this might come as a shock to ya, but I think she’s on about keepin’ ya.”   
  
Clayton screwed his face up. “No, not Mama Em, my… other-.”   
  
“Kid, that is ya Ma out there. Em is ya Ma,” Fontaine narrowed his eyes. “The bitch who left ya’? Don’t give her a second thought, she sure as hell gave you none. So long as those brats have got ya’ on the run, they’ll keep doin’ it. Ya gonna turn round and lamp ‘em.”   
  
Clayton was a little startled at the language. Adults didn’t usually say those words when he was around, they didn’t want him copying them and it just wasn’t the done thing. He’d heard his Mama say those words in both English and Norwegian, but she’d always whispered them when he was around. Or not say those words at all.   
  
Mister Fontaine didn’t seem to care. It even felt a bit like Mister Fontaine had been making fun of him earlier, but now he felt sincere.   
  
“I tried,” he pointed at his face. “But he was bigger than me.”   
  
“That’s why…” Fontaine reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch. “Ya’ cheat.”   
  
Clayton stared at the watch. It wasn’t as fancy as what he’d been expecting a man like Mister Fontaine to own. It was scraped and scratches littered it, the glass was slightly cracked and broken, but still sitting in the watch face by some miracle. The watch itself looked old too and not just because it was battered and broken.   
  
Still, he was confused. What was a watch going to do? How was that going to help him?   
  
Sensing his confusion, Fontaine slipped the watch over his hand so it rested over his knuckles and then he made a fist.   
  
Clayton blinked, before looking up at Fontaine still very confused.   
  
Frank sighed and pointed at the watch. “Look, the next time ya’ get in a fight, ya put this on how I have,” he pointed at it. “And you slug the little bastard with it. Can ya even throw a punch?”   
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Oh, yous can, can you?” He held the flat of his hand up. “Go on then kid. Hit it.”   
  
Clayton stared at him, trying to gauge if he was messing with him or not. Fontaine nodded at his hand and Clayton scrunched up a fist hitting the palm of his hand.   
  
“Did ya’ throw a punch?”   
  
“Yeah, you saw!”  
  
“Saw it, but didn’t feel it,” he reached forward and untucked Clayton’s thumb from inside his fist, “Don’t do that either. Sure fire way to gettin’ ya thumb broke. Now, try again, but act like ya trying to punch the thing behind me, ya hear me?”   
  
Clayton huffed, but he tried it and the hit was a lot harder than his previous one.   
  
“Better,” Fontaine nodded, taking his hand and slipping the watch over Clayton’s so it rested over the boy’s knuckles. “Now make a fist.”   
  
He did. Clayton wondered why Mister Fontaine was teaching him to fight or maybe it was more teaching him how to deal with a bully.   
  
“That’s it. Now the next time that brat bothers ya’ you slug ‘em with this hand, ya hearin’ me? Cause I ain’t gonna tell ya again. This is a one time opportunity kid,” he grabbed his shoulder and pointed at him. “And if ya’ tell anyone about this,” he gestured between the two of them. “There’s gonna be trouble, ya hear me?”   
  
“So it’s a secret?”   
  
He could keep a secret. He liked secrets, like his and his Mama’s secret language that only they could understand. It was special to him and her, maybe this would be special to him and Fontaine? Whatever this was.   
  
“Sure kid. It’s a secret. The biggest one ya’ gonna keep,” he took his wrist and slipped the watch over Clayton’s quite frankly tiny wrists, tightening the watch as best he could to fit. “There. Now ya got ya’self a secret weapon too. So the next time that kid starts talking trash you slip that over ya knuckles and you hit him. Hit him as hard as ya’ can and you don’t let up until ya get your point across and I guarantee he won’t come botherin’ you again.”   
  
“What about my size?”  
  
“Now there ya got an advantage,” Frank grinned at him. “Learn to use it. Ya’ got a little cherub face kid, melts a mother’s heart those do. You use that. If ya’ get in trouble and someone’s yellin’, stick ya lip out and act like ya gonna cry. Make ya eyes big and hell add some tears in if ya’ can.”   
  
Clayton blinked at him. “But isn’t that lying? Mama said you’re not supposed to lie.”   
  
“She said ya’ not _supposed_ to… didn’t say anythin’ about you not being _allowed_ to.”   
  
He seemed to think this over in his head. An impish smile formed across his face as he came to the conclusion that Fontaine was right and he could lie.  
  
Clayton decided right then and there, that Mister Fontaine was one of his favourite people. He was helping him deal with the problem, the other adults like Uncle Kyburz or Uncle Daniel would tell him to leave it alone. To avoid the other kid, but he didn’t want to do that. It wasn’t fair. Why should he have to leave just because some other kid was meaner?   
  
Clayton ran his fingers over the watch staring at it. He liked it, even if it was a little damaged. Mister Fontaine must of used it a lot, there were a few stains on it, but he could clean those off. He liked the watch though, it felt precious and filled with history.   
  
This had stories behind it, Clayton was sure curious about those stories, but he doubted that Mister Fontaine would tell him any.   
  
“And look at that,” Fontaine gestured to the watch. “Ya’ own something that’s from topside.”   
  
“Really?” Clayton’s eyes were wide and staring at the watch in awe. He’d always wanted to see something from topside, but never had. There wasn’t anything left in Rapture, but this was a watch…from topside! It was amazing!   
  
“Thank you!” Clayton beamed at him. “Thank you so much, Mister Fontaine!” He reached forward to give him a hug to say thanks, but Fontaine flinched away from him, holding his hands out to keep the kid at a distance.   
  
“Yeah, yeah, ya’ welcome,” he mumbled, standing up and leading the kid to the door. Before opening it, he turned to look at Clayton one last time and offer some last bit of advice. “Think of it like this kid,” he offered a smile. “Your Ma _chose_ you, that brat’s parents are _stuck_ with him,” he grinned and offered a wink. Clayton was grinning back at him and Fontaine opened the door, spotting Kelly talking to Reggie. “Miss Christie? I believe this is somethin’ ya supposed to be looking after?”   
  
Kelly went wide eyed at the sight of Clayton, eyes darting to the chair where he had been before looking back at Clayton. She was trying to form words but nothing was coming to mind, not even as Clayton came trotting down with the biggest grin and sat back in his seat again, kicking at the air.   
  
“I-,” Kelly blinked before turning to Fontaine. “I’m so sorry Mister Fontaine, I thought he was-.”   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Fontaine said easily, flashing his charming smile. “Kid’s are sneaky little buggers,” he laughed before fixing her with a pointed look. “Just don’t let it happen again.”   
  
Kelly gulped and nodded her head. “I won’t!”   
  
“Good,” Fontaine disappeared back into his office and closed the door.   
  
He rubbed at his eyes furiously, going back over what just happened and how he’d let his own personal feelings get in the way. He’d opened up to the kid a little, in his own way. He hadn’t meant to do that, but the boy was so much like him and he was right, kid’s were little bastards when they wanted to be. He’d been picked on as a boy by the other orphans in the orphanage.   
  
Ironically they’d usually pick on him for being an orphan, forgetting themselves for a brief moment that they were in exactly the same boat.  
  
Frank recalled they didn’t like that fact being pointed out to them. He rubbed at his jaw almost feeling the phantom pain of a punch from a much smaller fist.   
  
He shook his head. Now was not the time to start bringing up bad memories. So he was nice to the kid for a few minutes? Just a few minutes of his life he wasn’t getting back and besides, it wasn’t going to happen again.

* * *

  
It was late in Sinclair’s office, the shades were drawn and the only light source was the one on his desk. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air and Augustus was half tempted to light another one, but looking at the small and timid figure of Stanley Poole he decided against it.   
  
Poole was a timid man, rat like if Sinclair was to describe him personally. He didn’t trust Poole all too much, but he’d trust a paid man and if this deal went right? Well, Poole would just be another individual cultivated into Sinclair’s web.   
  
Augustus had been growing his web of informants around Rapture, ever since he learnt that Fontaine was ahead of him in that department. Then this Lamb woman showed up and Frank had been furious. He’d stormed into Sinclair’s office to complain about her, asking if he was going to do anything about the head doctor.   
  
Naturally for Frank to be in a rage quite like that there had to be a reason. Sinclair wasn’t too keen on the idea of talking to Frank though, not after he chewed him out at the Rapture anniversary ball, but then Frank had given away some quite frankly startling and worrying information.   
  
Lamb had known about some secret projects Fontaine was working on, he’d only briefly mentioned them to Sinclair since he needed workers to help out with the project and Sinclair had a supply in the apartment complex. Sure they weren’t really his workers, but he would advertise job offerings there. He was surprised Em hadn’t noticed them, but maybe that was because she never took any notice of anything Augustus was selling.   
  
Still, the idea of Lamb knowing about such projects before the public or hell even Ryan? That was a worrying prospect, because it did bring forward the question of just how much did that shrink know?   
  
Sinclair wouldn’t say he was getting nervous or jumpy, but things in the Drop were not rosy and Lamb was making that her main recruiting centre. Every time Sinclair went down to that place, he’d see more and more folks walking around wearing those butterfly pins Lamb was so fond of.   
  
Don’t even get him started on the debates she was having with Ryan. Those sure were a show to watch. Frank and Sinclair had sat at the back, both sharing a laugh at the old man’s expense. Sure, Sinclair liked Andrew Ryan, but he liked his money more and Ryan did have a high and mighty air about himself. So it was nice to see him brought down a peg or two.   
  
But when Fontaine had stormed into his office only a few months after, going on about Lamb knowing things she had no business knowing, it brought up problems. Frank had demanded to know just what Sinclair would be doing about her.   
  
Augustus wasn’t exactly sure what Frank thought he could do about it. At the time he’d mentioned something about Persephone, but that was off the table. Not until Andrew Ryan gave the green light and he’d only do that if they had proof of a cult or some sort of collective scheme forming in Rapture.   
  
Fontaine had nearly blown a gasket, screamed something along the lines of ‘ _you want proof?_ _Her knowin’ in the first place is proof!_ ’ And Sinclair was inclined to agree, but Andrew Ryan was not.   
  
Andrew Ryan wanted hard evidence of this collective. Of course, he wanted Lamb gone too, but he wasn’t stupid enough to simply make her disappear. Not yet, anyway.   
  
Sinclair had to suppress a grimace. Wouldn’t be good to put Poole at unease, he looked about one bad word away from jumping ship.   
  
“It’s good to see you Stanley,” Sinclair flashed a charming smile. “How’ve you been keeping?”   
  
“Ah, well enough, Mister Sinclair,” Poole shifted uncomfortably in his seat, licking his dry lips. “Just what did you want me down here for?”   
  
“Hm, the million dollar question huh?” Sinclair leaned back in his seat. “What could ol’ Augustus Sinclair need from Stanley Poole? Well, other than avoidin’ you putting my name in the paper, Mister Ryan’s asked me to hire a… well, for lack of a better term, a spy.”   
  
“A spy?” Poole blinked at him. “And ya chose me?”   
  
“You’re believable, Stanley.”   
  
Believable in the fact that Poole was so pathetic, the idea of Lamb’s collective farm she was growing would be a place a man like Stanley would eventually go. Sinclair was a little surprised he hadn’t gone already, safety in numbers, but then again Poole didn’t have a lot of friends.   
  
Scratch that, Poole didn’t have any friends. No one liked Poole. Even Sinclair didn’t like him and usually the only feeling Sinclair had for other people was nothing but contempt.   
  
There was just something about Poole that rubbed you up the wrong way. His whiney behaviour or weasel like nature? Heh, he was more like a rat, not smart enough to be a weasel.   
  
“So, ah, Mister Ryan’s payin’ me for this?”   
  
“Of course. I’ll be payin’ you for it to,” Sinclair leaned over the desk, resting his elbows on top and flashed Poole a grin. “And you’ll be keepin’ my name out of the Tribune in return, now won’t ya’ Stanley?”   
  
Poole blinked at him. “I ah, I won’t be able to keep it out of everything-.”   
  
“You better damn well try.”   
  
“Yes, Mister Sinclair,” he looked down at the desk a second, his brow furrowed, before looking up at him again. “So, ah what’s this job, exactly?”   
  
Augustus leaned away from the desk, flashing a grin and his well paid for Steinman teeth. Nothing drew the suckers in like a nice, clean, smile.   
  
“This job will change history and you’ll be there to record it, every step of the way.”

* * *

  
“So he just fell in?” Sullivan raised an eyebrow at Peach, thirteen other men stood behind them, the fifteenth man was being brought out on a gurney under a sheet.   
  
Sullivan moved out of the way to let them pass, he noticed that all the workers slowly watched the body be carted off. There was a general sense of unease about all of them. They were rigid and straight backed, Sullivan had seen men get like this while playing poker. The ones who weren’t very good at it.   
  
“Sammy G, always drank, Chief,” one of the men spoke up from behind them all. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he fell in and couldn’t get back up.”   
  
“That right?” Sullivan didn’t sound convinced and truth be told he wasn’t.   
  
He’d seen men like this before, men too scared to speak out against their boss because he’d handle them the same way he handled Sammy G. They couldn’t even tell him it was Fontaine doing it, simply because they’d probably not been there when the execution happened. It would’ve just been an accident on the surface, but anyone close enough to Fontaine would know it wasn’t.   
  
“Sure,” the guy shrugged. “We told Sammy enough times not to drink so much. He didn’t listen.”   
  
“Yeah? So what do I call you then?”   
  
“Name’s O’Riley, Chief.”   
  
“Got a first name, O’Riley?” Sullivan asked as he wrote it down.   
  
The man laughed, shaking his head before looking up at Sullivan, allowing his face to finally show in the light.   
  
“You won’t need a first name to identify me, Chief,” he replied and the man was right.  
  
All along the left side of his face were scars. They littered the left side of his face like an awful mosaic. Criss crossing over the top of each other, some burn marks too had left awful red skin. It snaked up his face and had burnt round the side of his head too. His face was a mess.   
  
Sullivan had seen plenty of guys who came home after the war with similar injuries. Always made him glad that he hadn’t gone over sees.   
  
There weren’t that many folks with these kinds of injuries now, however. Mostly because they’d all gone to Steinman and got themselves fixed up. This guy hadn’t, probably couldn’t afford to.   
  
“Yeah…” Sullivan mumbled. “I see what Ya’ mean.”  
  
He flashed a cold smile back at him, before walking back into the shadows, keeping his head bowed so you couldn’t see the injuries anymore. Clearly he had an issue with his face.   
  
“So, does Mister Fontaine know about this?”   
  
“Of course.”  
  
“And where is he?”   
  
Peach blinked, he shrugged a little.   
  
“You don’t know?” Sullivan slowly lowered his notebook. “Why isn’t he here?”   
  
“He’s probably at the Futuristics building,” O’Riley shrugged. “And he’s probably not here because he’s got better stuff to do.”  
  
“Not hang around to explain why one of his workers is dead?”   
  
O’Riley smirked, looking at his fingernails a moment. “And I’m sure Mister Ryan graces his workers with the same curtesy. Get off ya’ high horse, Chief. You know damn well why Fontaine ain’t here, you probably know better than anyone.”   
  
“Watch yourself, O’Riley,” Sullivan warned, folding the note book closed.   
  
He couldn’t argue with what O’Riley had said. He was right, Ryan wouldn’t give a damn about one of his workers dying, Sullivan knew that. He’d seen it first hand. What was it, Ryan had said? You can’t dwell on the dead, they’re not here anymore, yeah it was something like that. It explained a lot about Andrew Ryan.   
  
Sullivan had a feeling though, that what O’Riley was saying had a different meaning behind it. That yes, Sullivan did know better than anyone why this guy was dead. He was probably gonna rat Fontaine out to Ryan, so Fontaine got rid of him in a way that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion.   
  
“Anything else, Chief?”   
  
“No, that’ll do… for now,” he narrowed his eyes at them. “Just watch yourselves out there. I’d hate for anymore accidents to happen.”   
  
He turned and began walking away from them. The group huddled together, glaring at the back of Sullivan, some had their fists clenched, others had their arms crossed. They all held an air of being disgruntled and annoyed.   
  
“That porkpie’s gettin’ too close,” Peach snarled. “We gotta let the boss know, before it gets worse.”   
  
There was a mummer of agreement through the group. What Sullivan didn’t realise was if anything went wrong it would be their lives on the line. If something went wrong they’d be dead. Fontaine didn’t suffer fools, he got rid of anyone that showed a hint of incompetence.   
  
“How’d you think Fontaine’s gonna handle this one?” O’Riley mumbled.   
  
“I don’t know and I don’t wanna know,” he turned to him, narrowing his eyes. “But nice cover there.”   
  
“Yeah well,” O’Riley shrugged. “Not like you were going to do anything about it.”   
  
Peach was red in the face, but O’Riley hardly cared. He didn’t care about anything much anymore. His life was ruined thanks to the war and that nice little line of bullshit Ryan had span about a new start. About everything turning out for the better in Rapture, was all lies.   
  
He’d been hopeful when he came down here, now he just accepted the way things were. Didn’t stop him from saving up still to try and get his faced fix, but well either the bills went up or something broke and needed fixing. It was just one bad thing after another and really, he was getting tired of it.   
  
Almost pondered giving up, but he supposed he couldn’t do that now. Not when he had all these lads to look after. That’s what you did in a war, you watched out for each other. Sure, no one was calling the little spat between Ryan and Fontaine a war yet, but there wasn’t much else you could call it. Things were only going to get worse from here and at the end of it all, it’ll either be Fontaine in charge or Ryan.

* * *

  
_Peach Wilkins,_   
  
_Putting the screws on:_   
  
_Fontaine’s putting the screws on us, and double. He’s squeezing us out of eighty percent of our cut with the threat of turning us in to Ryan if we don’t play ball. Son of a bitch._   
  
_Sammy G comes and tells me he’s thinking of going to the constable, and the next day, Sammy G was found in a sack in the salt pond. We got no choice here. We stay on Fontaine’s crew, and we’re gonna catch the gallows. We take a powder, and we end up like Sammy G. There’s gotta be another way…_


	18. Minnie the Moocher

_Ada,_   
  
_Getting wild:_   
  
_Things are really getting wild now. Mister Fontaine has recently released the latest must have and I’m not talking fashion here honey, I’m talking tonics! Plasmids! Why have a lighter taking up space in your purse, when at the snap of your fingers you hold a flame in the palm of your hand!_   
  
_Andrew Ryan better step up his game, he’s quickly becoming yesterday’s news, wouldn’t surprise me if the great chain will be pulled by Mister Fontaine soon. What am I saying? He’s already pulling it, changing your genes is the way of the future my darlings! Change the foundations before you change the decor, Steinman will have to wait… I have a few tonics to collect._

* * *

  
Kelly darted through the many corridors of Dionysus Park, heading for the main hall which would be filled with party goers. Tonight was another one of Ava Tate’s grand parties and she’d been invited once more. At first, Kelly had been hesitant to go, simply because she knew what Ava was like.   
  
Plasmids. Well, what a wondrous new thing that was? Ava was bound to jump on it, she’d been at the reveal after all. She’d seen her talk to Limey, probably arranging a deal with Fontaine.   
  
Dionysus Park was a nice place, Kelly had always enjoyed it. It wasn’t as commercialised as Fort Frolic was, it was beautiful. Huge golden Art Deco statues of dancers littered the place, a bar and a dance floor, a place for art work too. It was all so elegant and not a hint of Andrew Ryan could be found here.   
  
Ava Tate was a fan of Andrew Ryan, her films always had a hint of Andrew Ryan’s propaganda to them. It felt a bit like the old man was breathing down their necks whenever those films were on show. Almost a reminder that free market that Rapture may be, Andrew Ryan was watching everything and if he didn’t like what you were doing, he’d deal with you.   
  
Kelly wasn’t sure what that quite meant, she heard the rumours of course. Whispers about people going missing and she had seen some of the plans to do with Persephone. Em had worked on it too, but she wouldn’t speak about it. None of the people that Kelly knew personally who had worked on Persephone would say anything about it. Hell, Kelly didn’t even know where Persephone was. No one in Rapture did, except for select few.   
  
Still, there was always that building that Kelly would see from Fontaine Futuristics. It was a big building too, sitting over a sea trench. She found that an odd place to put a building and she hadn’t seen much foot traffic coming to or from the building itself. It just sat there, in the shadows of Rapture, almost like a dirty little secret. She wondered if that was Persephone or if it was a building that simply hadn’t been bought by someone yet, but there were lights on in the place so someone had to own it. Whenever she asked, people would give her a funny look, say something about not knowing a building was there in the first place and then mover swiftly on to a different subject.   
  
Kelly couldn’t say she was surprised. If she didn’t know what it was and she liked to pride herself in finding nearly anything and everything out, then the rest of the populace had no chance. She’d asked Em about it, but the woman wasn’t giving her anything, almost avoiding the question entirely. If Kelly didn’t know any better, she’d say Em was scared. That was a new one.   
  
As she walked through to the grand hall, she noticed that one part of the place was closed off. Standing on guard where two sorts you’d expect to find in Pauper’s Drop, not here. A thuggish sort of person, who didn’t look all too smart. Their clothes were rugged and a bit torn, but pinned to their lapels was a blue butterfly. They each had one and Kelly thought it was such an odd thing.   
  
She’d been seeing more and more people wearing the same pins recently, hell even Cammie had been flashing one. Kelly hadn’t had chance to ask her about it yet, but she wanted to.   
  
“Kelly!”   
  
Spinning around she found Ava, dressed in her famed red dress, a smile on her face. Her hair was done up fancy and her lips were stained a deep glossy red that almost matched the silk dress. Ava Tate was a woman who commanded a room when she entered it, but she had a feel of aloofness to her, like no matter what you did you’d never reach Ava’s level. Though there was always a level of contempt in her gaze whenever she spoke to her guests. Almost like she couldn’t abide these people, but invited them anyway.   
  
“Ava, it’s simply lovely,” Kelly gushed. “You’ve got the good stuff right?”  
  
“Oh I have your nose candy don’t you worry,” she winked at her. “But I have something so much better, you’re going to love it,” she took her hand and began pulling her through the crowd of people. “Fontaine may have his ADAM, but I have something so much better, my darling.”   
  
Kelly pointed at the closed off door as they walked. “What’s gong on back there?”   
  
“Oh, that?” Ava’s voice went flat, not something Kelly had ever experienced before. “Doctor Lamb. She’s… working here. We’re thinking of making this place into an artists retreat for her patients. Lord knows they could use a break and a party wouldn’t kill them.”  
  
“Lamb?” Kelly rose an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d get mixed up with her.”   
  
“Dear me, Kells,” Ava rolled her eyes, a smile on her face once more. “You make it sound so sinister. She’s a Doctor, she’s just helping people, god you’re starting to sound more and more like Opal.”   
  
“I thought you liked Opal?”   
  
“I did like her, but she’s just been so down recently,” Ava rolled her eyes. “Speaking like everything around us is going to come crashing down at any moment. Or at least she was the last time I spoke to her.”   
  
Kelly didn’t think that was fair. Opal was just worried about her sister. She was working for Steinman after all and well, Kelly could understand why she’d be worried. She’d only spoken to the Doctor once, but once was enough. The man was harsh and cold, not at all how you’d expect a doctor to be.   
  
The party was in full swing. Surrounding them were party goers all dressed in their best, a few had those blue butterflies pinned to their clothing too. Kelly didn’t understand why Ava was letting Lamb take over her place, the woman had built everything around them up from scratch and then there was the famed Carousel. To this day Kelly didn’t know how Ava had gotten that thing down here. She doubted that Andrew Ryan would allow such a thing, but it was here now and Ryan couldn’t do anything about it. Too scared to sensor and be deemed just as bad as those topside.   
  
“Ava why is Lamb here?”  
  
“Why the interest?” She rose an eyebrow at her. “Kelly she’s been helping me through some things and so I decided to help her in turn. I hope there’s nothing wrong with that.”   
  
“Well no, but-.”  
  
“Then there is nothing to talk about,” she said sternly before smiling again. “But, if you’d like, I could arrange you to go and talk to her. I hear Cammie’s been feeling so much better. It might do you some good too.”   
  
Kelly doubted that. From what she’d seen of some of the people who came out from talking to Lamb, they weren’t all quite there. Like a piece of themselves was missing. Cameal hadn’t been quite the same. She used to be so quiet and sweet. Now she would take whatever moment she could to talk about Lamb and how amazing she was. Even Sarah, her other half, was worried for a time. That was of course until she started seeing Lamb as well and now she was very much in deep like Cammie was. They didn’t go out with the girls as much as they used to, she imagined it was because they were busy being fed more bullshit from Lamb.   
  
A lot of people did that down here. Ryan fed a nice little line of bullshit about this place being different to the surface. The only difference was being unable to feel the warmth of the sun on your back. Fontaine spoke about being fair and kinder than Ryan and that was lie. Sinclair had woven a little line of being nothing but a businessman and that was for sure the biggest lie out there. Sinclair was up to something, he always was, but Kelly liked that about him. He was fun, not dangerous like Fontaine.   
  
She was starting to see what Em meant about Fontaine since working for him. He was dangerous and Kelly was under no illusion that if she spoke just a touch out of line, she’d be gone. Emilie got away with it somehow, she guessed it was because Fontaine enjoyed irritating her, but Kelly had no such luxury. She was easy on the eyes and her and Fontaine had been enjoying a few midnight rendezvous together, either in his office or at his penthouse. Usually Kelly would insist on it being at her house, but you didn’t say no to a man like Frank Fontaine. There was something unmistakably cruel about him.   
  
“I’ll pass thanks,” Kelly replied, looking over at the door, but she could barely see it now. “It’s not like I have any problems to discuss. I’m more surprised you would allow it.”   
  
“Like I said, she helped me, I help her. It’s a simple transaction Kelly, do keep up,” she smirked at her before coming to a stop. “Ah, here we are,” Ava grinned, picking up a glowing purple bottle of… something. Kelly wasn’t sure what. “I call it, EDEN.”   
  
The liquid inside of the bottle had the same qualities to ADAM, it glowed and seemed to be filled with energy. The only difference was the purple colouring. It was beautiful, like all the plasmids in their bottles, they were beautiful to look at. They screamed power and Kelly had seen a few people using them. Their eyes would glow with the power whenever they used their plasmids. A different coloured light depending on the plasmid being used.   
  
Kelly still had her free sample at home. She’d taken it with her after the reveal, but she was cautious to use it. Anything you had to inject into yourself was bad news, especially when you wanted to keep your look as pristine as possible. Sure, she used the old nose candy every so often, but that was only a little bit of indulgence. Never would Kelly try needling though. Bruises didn’t look good and needles were awful painful.  
  
“What’s it do?” She asked, raising her eyebrow and staring at the glowing purple liquid.   
  
“Anything you want it to, honey,” Ava smiled. “You want to escape for a bit? This’ll let ya. You want to know the meaning of life? This’ll tell ya. You want to live forever and be young for eternity? This is the answer,” she held the bottle out to her. “Truly it is EDEN.”   
  
Kelly eyed it, she didn’t move to take it and she wasn’t too keen on taking it either. Sure, you saw all manner of things if you took too much of the white powder, but Kelly didn’t enjoy that part. She liked the happy almost giddy feeling you got at the start, almost akin to the feeling of being tipsy, you just got there quicker. She liked being in control of her actions and this did not seem like something that would allow that.   
  
Also, she wasn’t sure how far Fontaine’s reaches went. If he caught wind of this product, he was sure not going to be happy. He’d probably be less happy if he found out his employees were taking the stuff that would no doubt become a rival to his own product. If this EDEN really did everything Ava was saying it did, no end of people would buy it. She was pretty certain that soon most of the parties like this would just become a round of shooting up plasmids and combing them. Seeing just what crazy concoctions you could make.   
  
If and when it got to that stage, Kelly was going to stop coming to these things. She didn’t know the first thing about chemistry, she certainly didn’t have the qualifications that those crazy doctors Fontaine had hired did. She wouldn’t know a gene sequence from an element on the periodic table. It was all greek to her, but there was one thing she did know and that was the simple fact of you didn’t mix your narcotics. She’d seen a few idiots do that and regret it immediately afterwards. So if these lunatics started mixing plasmids and tonics together in a bid to make a brad new thing, not knowing what the outcome was going to be, well you could count her out.  
  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ava,” she crossed her arms glaring a little. “But I’m in no mood to visit whatever la la land you’re selling. I’ll stick to the powder, thanks.”   
  
“You think that’s any different?”   
  
“Least I know what that does and I know my own limit,” she gestured to bottle. “I don’t know what the hell is in that or what my limit is. Do you even know what you’re doing to people?”   
  
“Oh, nothing they didn’t ask for,” she smiled at her. “And besides, Ada helped me out. She’s an intellectual you know. She knows some bits about science,” she shook the bottle. “She takes it, come on… it’s just a bit of fun Kelly, never known you to be a stick in the mud.”   
  
Kelly narrowed her eyes. “Never known you to be so goddamn stupid,” she crossed her arms again and shook her head. “Take your little science project to someone else, I’m not interested. I just want my nose candy, maybe pick up a date and you won’t be seeing me again. Especially if you’re mixing this kind of stuff up. Do you even know what you’re doing?”   
  
Ava didn’t look happy, slamming the bottle down on the bar top. “I know enough. Like I said, Ada helped me. She’s a smart girl.”   
  
“Can’t be that damn smart,” Kelly bit back. “You really trust an actress and chess player-.”   
  
“Ada is an intellectual, like I said,” Ava picked up the bottle again. “I’m telling you Kelly, this is the future of having a good time.”   
  
“Then I guess I’m just an old fashioned type of girl,” she took a step closer, glaring at her. “Take it to someone else.”   
  
Ava glared at her, straightening her back and flicked her hair out of her face. She pushed past Kelly, slipping through the crowd, no doubt to grab someone else to try her little chemical concoction.   
  
Kelly was glaring right after her. She might leave early, screw the powder, she’ll get it somewhere else and have it in the privacy of her own home. These parties were getting a bit old. You’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all and the best of it was every single person thought they were being so outrageous. It’s not outrageous when you’re allowed to do it, but people didn’t seem to get that.   
  
Kelly often wondered if that’s why Ava threw the damn things. She was secretly laughing at the stupidity of people and making fun of them behind their backs, while taking their money at the same time.   
  
“You really stuck it to Ava. Whilst I enjoy the woman…” Kelly turned to see a woman in the shadows, leaning against the wall and smoking. “She can be so pushy sometimes, don’t you think?” The woman emerged from the shadows to be none other than Ada, famed actress and intellectual of Rapture.   
  
Ada had been a silver screen actress topside, but she came from a long line of stage actors. In Rapture she painted and acted in films, but she was also a famed chess player. Ada was a smart woman, smart was dangerous in Rapture and Kelly was beginning to learn that as the years went by. Smart could potentially be a danger to you or to everyone else, but Ada seemed harmless enough.   
  
Kelly had never spoken to her personally, but she knew a few people who had and they always commented on how lovely Ada was. Never a bad word spoken about the woman, everything was positive. In Rapture that either meant two things. Ada was paying them very well or she had something on all of them that they didn’t want revealed. Given that she was at a lot of Ava’s parties, Kelly was leaning more towards the latter.   
  
“A little,” Kelly agreed, looking the woman up and down. “You’re Ada, aren’t you?”   
  
Ada did a little bow. She was dressed in the finest rich pink dress Kelly had ever seen. It wasn’t a light and friendly colour like Cameal wore, it was a darker, deeper shade and she wore a big necklace. It was filled with diamonds and one pink stone in the middle of it. Long black gloves covered Ada’s arms and her hair was wavy and ran down her back, with one part slipping over her shoulders.   
  
“The one and only,” she smiled. “Kelly Christie, right? I’ve seen you around… you make a habit of popping up with the men.”   
  
“And you like to mix your tonics.”   
  
Ada laughed, taking a drag from her cigarette. “Oh my, that was just a bit of fun. When she first told me of the idea, I thought she was mad. Ava had already made the EDEN, she just ran it by me to make sure she’d done it right. As far as I could tell there was nothing wrong,” she blew some smoke out. “But I’m an artist, not a scientist.”  
  
“You still use it though.”   
  
“But of course,” she smiled at her. “I have enough faith in my knowledge to have a little fun. The EDEN is perfectly safe and I certainly wouldn’t pass up a chance to be young forever,” she looked distressed for a moment, but she was more putting on a show. “Originally I was going to turn myself into nothing but plastic, till all that remained where the few films I’d starred in to immortalise my beauty,” she looked up at Kelly and grinned. “But now? Oh, now I have EDEN and the greatest plastic surgeon at my disposal. I hear Steinman’s been using ADAM in his work now and the results are simply staggering.”   
  
“As long as he’s not shooting up with the stuff before the surgery,” Kelly glanced around the room at the other partiers. “I’ve heard that some people have been going a little crazy with the power.”   
  
Ada waved her off. “They just don’t know how to handle their plasmids, darling,” she stepped forward and hooked her arm through Kelly’s. “What was it you said you liked? The powder, yes? That’s just over here-.”   
  
“I think I’ll pass this evening,” Kelly slipped her arm out. “These parties are getting old. They’re not crazy enough anymore,” she looked around at everyone else and frowned. “They’re just sad.”   
  
They truly were just sad. A bunch of ageing frat boys and party girls trying desperately to hold on to their youth. Kelly wasn’t that bothered anymore and these parties were getting old. Old and boring, they hadn’t moved on in their lives. She finally felt old and she wasn’t even that old, only reaching that horrifying three and zero just this year, but she felt tired. Of course, she wasn’t going to stop fooling around any time soon, she enjoyed it too much, but these types of parties… well, simply put, she had outgrown them.   
  
“Oh I know what you mean,” Ada gushed, flicking ash intro one of the nearby ashtrays. “Simply boring, same old, same old,” a frown crossed her face. “And now there’s this… Doctor Lamb here too, I honestly don’t know what Ava was thinking,” she stubbed her cigarette out. “Woman’s hardly in our league, but her being here has really brought down the mood.”   
  
Kelly thought about it a second. Glancing at Ada, she decided the woman wasn’t that bad and it had been a while since her and Em had been out on the town. Ever since she got Clayton, Emilie had been busy, she had other responsibilities now and then there was Opal talking about settling down… everything was changing. Kelly didn’t want to be left behind and forgotten. If people were settling down and starting families, what did that mean for her? Would she be that old kuga she saw at the bar every now and then? The old biddy who still chased after young men to make herself feel young again? That really was a sad prospect.   
  
Maybe she could settle down?   
  
She thought about it for second. Imagining her settle down with a family and taking care of the kids, doing the laundry and cooking the dinner and oh dear god it was a nightmare. Stop, don’t think about it any more. That clearly wasn’t going to be happening.   
  
“You know,” Kelly began looking back at Ada and smiling. “If you want to have a real good time. I know a place that makes this,” she gestured to the party. “Look like the tamest place in Rapture, no ADAM required.”   
  
Ada looked intrigued, stepping closer to Kelly again. “And where is this place?”   
  
Kelly grinned at her. “Have you ever heard of the Fighting McDonagh?”

* * *

  
There were moments, just moments where Reggie felt like things hand’t changed at all. This right now would be one of those moments.   
  
Frank and Limey were laying into each other with harsh words and barbed tongues. It was quite the spectacle to see, but Reggie had seen it many times before so now he felt like a veteran. They’d always argued, always disagreed with something and Reggie was usually stuck in the middle or stuck on the side lines. Sometimes he didn’t even know what caused the arguments. One moment everything would be fine, the next? Screaming and yelling, the occasional glass thrown across the room at a wall. That didn’t happen too often, but he had a feeling it might happen this time.   
  
“You are behaving like a petulant child, Francis!”   
  
Fontaine looked like a blood vessel was going to burst. Reggie wasn’t sure if it was due to being called Francis when he was mad or the petulant child part. Either way, the boss looked about three sentences away from throwing something.   
  
“How many times Limey?! Don’t call me Francis! Least of all in this buildin’! I can’t have no mooks leanin’ that-!”   
  
“Learnin _g_. Learnin _g_!” She put emphasis on the ‘g’ at the end. “Do you spell leaning without a ‘g’?! No you don’t! Would it kill you to pronounce things properly?!”   
  
Reggie frowned slightly and looked between the two of them. He knew how much the boss hated his speech being corrected. In many ways it was a reminder of where Frank had come from. Even now as a big shot in this wet old town, a few folks still looked down their nose at him whenever he spoke. Almost like they could see the street kid from his past hiding behind the fancy suits and expensive cologne.   
  
Frank lost his temper, like Reggie expected him to, hurling a brandy glass at the wall. It exploded into a rainfall of shards.   
  
Only took two sentences. Reggie had been close.   
  
“God fuckin’ damn it! This ain’t an elocution lesson!”   
  
“I am astounded you even know what that is,” Limey replied flatly.   
  
“I ain’t an idiot, Limey, even Reggie knows what it is! Right, Reg?”   
  
Reggie blinked as two sets of sharp and infuriated eyes landed on him, one brown and one steel blue.   
  
Why did they have to bring him into this? This was their argument, their disagreement. He just stood on the side and watched the show, before picking up the pieces afterwards and sometimes he wouldn’t even do that. Sometimes he’d just let them be and they’d sort their own mess out.   
  
Never said sorry, dear lord, neither of them would ever say sorry. Both too proud to ever admit they’d been in the wrong, but you had to understand their language. It would take a week, sometimes an afternoon or on the really bad times, it would take a month, but on their desk they’d find a box of tea or a box of cigars. It was their way of saying sorry. Something that anyone watching wouldn’t always understand. Probably think it was too much hassle, but uttering those damning words felt more like hassle to Limey and Frank, than buying an apology ever did.   
  
“Ah, well.. ah…” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Ain’t it those… talkin’ lessons or somethin’?”   
  
“See?!” Frank snapped back at Limey as they started to glare at each other again. “Knew ya wouldn’t let me down Reg.”   
  
Well at least the boss wasn’t going to kill him. Limey still might, could never quite tell with her.   
  
“I still think you’re being too rash, you’re making big assumptions that not everyone is as smart as you. The most dangerous thing to a good plan is ego, Francis!”   
  
“Well one will make sure he does not let his ego get the best of one’s self!”   
  
Reggie blinked in surprise as Frank said an entire sentence perfectly. Almost like Limey, in good old king’s English. Though it was probably done to get a rise out of Limey, Frank did and would always enjoy aggravating the woman in some way. Did it as a kid, he did it as a teenager and he did it now. Reggie thought he had a death wish.   
  
It looked like she know what he was doing because she smirked at him. Limey smiling was worrying, Limey smirking was a precursor to being dead or humiliated.   
  
“Well would ya look at that ducky, he can do it, he can! Would ya’ Adam and Eve it!”   
  
Now it was Frank and Reggie’s turn to look astounded at the use of slang from Limey of all people. She never used slang, not even when she lived in the bronx with them. It was always proper English spoken from her. Part of the reason Frank and Reggie’s slang would get on her nerves. She’d tried so hard as a younger woman to teach Frank how to speak correctly. It was all a waste of time in the end, that boy was a bronx kid through and through.   
  
She crossed her arms and her smirk got bigger. “Yes, I know slang. A well educated person is informed on all forms of speech, but one finds it dangerous to use such language in an environments such as this.”   
  
Frank got over his shock quickly to glare at her. “Ain’t it dangerous fer someone to use their entire vocabulary in a single sentence?”   
  
“You tell me, Francis, I have never had such a problem.”   
  
Reggie slowly began to try and inch his way towards the door. To escape. Lord knows that this conversation was entering similar grounds of the great argument of forty one, or the tantrum of thirty two. Yes Frank been twelve, but it was still a tantrum. One Reggie very much would not like to deal with or be in the vicinity of ever again please, thank you very much. Three times was enough.   
  
“And just where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?!”   
  
Shit. No such luck.   
  
“Nowhere.”   
  
“Really? ‘Cos it looked like you was trying to go somewhere!”   
  
“He agrees with me!” Limey snapped.   
  
Reggie silently cursed her, because why would she say that and bring him into it completely. He didn’t want to get involved even if he did agree a little. Ever since Plasmids had come out, Frank had become more and more carless. Like he assumed that everything was going to be fine and go according to plan because he had the thing everyone wanted.   
  
“What?!” Frank’s attention was on Reggie and the larger man shuffled awkwardly. “Oh ya do, do ya? Well, come on Reg spit it out! Seems like truth is havin’ a say today, which is ironic.”   
  
“I.. I don’t really wanna get into this…” Reggie held his hands up in surrender. “I just.. I really don’t want ta be involved with another tantr- argument!” He practically shouted the correction as Frank’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “Really, arguin’ is yours and Limey’s thing. I’m just the muscle, remember?”   
  
This was not a situation he wanted to be caught in. Frank was scary when he wanted to be and whilst Reggie was a good foot taller than him, Frank made up for the height difference in temper and presence alone. Always had been a fiery little bastard. Reggie had been fond of his explosive personality when he’d been a kid because at times it was funny. He’d also been a sharp kid too, scary sharp. Those brown eyes always saw more than what you thought they did.   
  
His answer didn’t seem to please Fontaine in the slightest.   
  
“Oh so it’s a tantrum now is it?”  
  
“Well it’s hardly an intelligent conversation,” Limey drawled with a roll of her eyes.   
  
“Can it Limey, I don’t have the patience or the time!”  
  
“Charming as ever, Francis, it’s a wonder the women are falling at your feet.”   
  
Frank growled, literally growled at that and Reggie looked between the two of them again. He sometimes wondered why Limey made it worse. One time she’d said that if he didn’t get it all out of his system it would do him no good. Still, Reggie didn’t understand it fully. Part of him suspected that Limey enjoyed the arguments to a degree. That she liked pushing people’s buttons to see how they’d react. Now Reggie was starting to see where Frank got it from.   
  
Now, however, it felt like he was being taken back through several arguments like this over the years.   
  
When Frank was twenty one, still brash and young, it was the first time a job had blown up in his face and the argument after wasn’t any better.   
  
_“Look at my dress, Francis! Look at it!”_  
  
 _“Really? Ya complainin’ ‘bout that?! Look at my face!”_   
  
Reggie remembers that he had been shot in the arm at the time, but that had not been as important as a screaming match apparently.   
  
Then there was the first time Frank been shot at the age of fifteen.   
  
_“How did you get shot?!”_  
  
 _“Some mook pointed a gun at me and pulled the trigger, Limey! How ya fuckin’ thi-?! Ahhh! That hurt!”_  
  
 _“Of course it hurt. You’ve been shot! Don’t antagonise your surgeon, Francis, I can do this with as little or as much pain as possible. The choice is up to you and that mouth of yours.”_  
  
 _“Crazy broad! Reggie, why didn’t we go to a real- ah Jesus fuckin’- why didn’t we go to a real doc- fucking christ what ya doin’?! Why didn’t we go to a real doctor?!”_   
  
Frank’s voice was still breaking at the time. Had the circumstances been different, Reggie might of considered that argument funny, since the kid’s voice kept jumping from octave to octave.   
  
And finally, the tantrum he’d had at the age of twelve.   
  
_“I ain’t doin’ it Limey!”_  
  
 _“Francis you will wash the dishes and you will put your plates away!”_  
  
 _“That’s not my name! It’s Frank! Frank! F-R-A-N-K!”_  
  
 _“Can you spell your last name?”_  
  
 _“Shut up! I ain’t doin’ the dishes!”_  
  
 _“Oh yes you are and don’t you think- get back here when I’m talking to you!”_   
  
If Reggie recalled right, Frank decided that instead of washing the dishes he would smash the dishes. Proudly standing over the mess, sticking his tongue out and declaring he didn’t have any dishes to wash. The next evening Limey cooked dinner and Frank didn’t get any.   
  
_“No plate. No dinner. Unless you’d rather eat off the table, Francis.”_   
  
Frank did his dishes every day after that. After another round of screaming and yelling of course. Little bastard wouldn’t go down quietly, not without getting his point across.   
  
Now here Reggie was experiencing the latest explosive argument. The two of them at each other’s throats in a verbal spat.   
  
It hadn’t changed much.   
  
“Boss…” he sighed, using a tone he hadn’t used since Frank was just that scruffy little ten year old pain in the backside and it was amazing to watch the transformation, as Fontaine snapped his mouth shut before glaring at Reggie.   
  
That look almost burnt a hole in Reggie’s head. He hated it when Reggie used that tone, but it still worked. Not quite as well as it used to. Frank was an adult now after all and he was the boss, but it usually got him to calm down enough to actually look at the conversation. To actually give him a chance to see what Limey was trying to say without going through another round of screaming and yelling.   
  
“What?!” “All Limey’s tryna’ say is be careful.”   
  
It was like all the wind had left Frank’s sales and he deflated in an instant.   
  
Yep, still got it. Reggie could still defuse the Fontaine bomb when others couldn’t. Though of course now he couldn’t pick him up anymore or hang upside down which is what he used to do. It sorta made the screaming worse until little Frankie tired himself out and would just hang there glaring at him. Still, it would calm the little bastard down and they could start from the beginning with no fear of a verbal spat starting up again because Frank was too tired.   
  
“I get that. Seriously though, Limes, ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he offered her his signature smirk. “Got it all figured out. ‘Sides, I got you two ta watch my back.”  
  
“Of course you have,” she nodded and Reggie grinned nodding too.  
  
“Sure thing boss.”   
  
They’d always be by his side. Always watching his back, they weren’t going anywhere. Even if Frank didn’t see them as family, Reggie did. Frank was his kid, as far as he was concerned. His kid first, his boss second, he’d always watch his back and protect him no matter the cost. That’s what family did after all. They looked out for each other and even Limey with her coldness still cared.   
  
Reggie wasn’t sure how Frank saw them, if they were just friends to him or not even that, but he was Reggie’s kid. He’d like to think after all the years they’d been together, this strange little family of theirs, that Reggie and Limey at least meant something to Frank.  
  
Frank gave a single nod looking them both over. “Ya know… I could do with a drink.. wanna head home?”   
  
“Thought you’d never ask,” Limey sighed in relief, linking her arm with his offered one, walking towards the door. “These heels are killing me.”  
  
“Ya’ just tryna’ be taller than me is all,” Frank winked at her. “Why ya’ think I wore my heels today?”   
  
Limey laughed softly and Reggie followed them out quietly as they chatted both taking digs at each other, but in a friendlier way.   
  
That evening, after a few rounds of pool and a tremendous amount of drinking, all parties passed out on the sofa. Limey on one side, legs stretched out over Frank and Reggie’s lap. Frank was in the middle resting his head on Reggie’s shoulder, just like they’d done the first night they’d taken Frank in on that cold December night of 1930.   
  
_Yeah_ , Reggie thought as he opened one sleepy eye to look over the other two, _some things never change._

* * *

  
Cameal tightened the ribbon on her ballet pumps, standing up and brushing down her dress. She wobbled a little before regaining her balance and then proceeded to dance to the music playing on the record player. It was late and she was practicing in the rehearsal room, the mirrors reflected her figure as she elegantly danced around the room. Loops and twirls, extending her leg and arms in arches, even craning her neck.   
  
Ballet was Cameal’s calling, her love and passion since she was a little girl. It was the only thing she took seriously and she practiced every day. Now, she’d begun to practice at night too. There was a big show coming up and she didn’t want to mess up. She wanted to stand out compared to everyone else.   
  
It did contradict some of the things she’d been talking to Doctor Lamb about, but this was her chance. Yes, she wanted to belong and she did feel embarrassed when it came to her friends. She was the one who felt embarrassed though, because she was rich and they were poor, but not because they were poor. No, she felt embarrassed because she was rich.   
  
Emilie and Kelly were far smarter than she was, yet they were doing badly. Well, Kelly wasn’t doing too bad, but Emilie was in that awful housing in Pauper’s Drop.   
  
Since seeing Doctor Lamb, Cameal had been down Pauper’s Drop more often than she’d liked, but being there had been a real eye opener. To see how awful it all was, to see how little Andrew Ryan cared about any of them. Doctor Lamb cared though. She wanted to see everyone as an equal, so everyone was the same and no one was prospering above their fellows. Cameal believed in that, except when it came to dancing. This was her love, her passion. She wanted to be seen finally for the skill she had.   
  
“I thought I’d find you here.”   
  
Cammie stopped, turning to Sarah who was leaning against the door to the rehearsal room with a soft smile gracing her face. Sarah always knew where to find Cameal, it was a lovely feeling, to be loved. To finally find someone that was like her.   
  
Cameal had always thought there was something wrong with her or maybe she just hadn’t found the right man yet. Ever since she was a teenager she’d never thought of men as being appealing, found herself staring at women instead. She just found them so beautiful, so much more appealing than men. She soon realised she was attracted to women. At that realisation she thought there was something wrong with her. Oh yes, she’d herd of men liking other men of course, but it was unheard of with women.   
  
Then she met Sarah and it was like everything clicked. She wasn’t the only one, funny thing was, Sarah had felt the same as her. That she was the only one in Rapture who felt like that, but it wasn’t true.   
  
They said that time would stand still when you found that person and Cameal would agree. That’s what happened. She’d walked in the shop and there was Sarah, hair up out of her face, working away at a sowing machine. When she looked up and spotted Cameal she smiled and it lit up her whole face. She was beautiful, Cameal had never felt like she did in that moment. It was like truly finding the right person, the one you’d waited your whole life to find.   
  
It had been awkward at first. How did you tell someone how you felt about them when you knew they wouldn’t feel the same?   
  
Luck seemed to have been on her side or maybe it was fate? Sarah was like her. She wasn’t alone anymore.   
  
Cameal had thought Diane was beautiful, but then she saw Sarah and any thoughts of Diane just disappeared. This was the woman that she wanted to be with.   
  
The hardest part had been admitting to her friends that she was fond of women rather than men and thankfully they took it in their stride. Kelly being Kelly asked if it was any different being with a woman to a man and Em even told her that in the workplace during the war, she saw quite a few women get together. So Cameal and Sarah weren’t the only ones. They were normal.  
  
It was such a wonderful feeling, to know you belonged.   
  
“I was just practicing,” she blue some hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, what time is it? It must be late now…”   
  
“It’s a little past midnight,” Sarah smiled, walking into the room, her coat was folded over her arm. “You must of gotten really engrossed. Though, I have to admit, I was tempted to check if you were murdering LaLorna.”   
  
Cameal was busy packing up her things. “I’m so sorry for keeping you up,” she pulled her ballet pumps off and slipped her flats on. Her feet always hurt after dancing in her pumps. “No, I wasn’t murdering LaLorna. I couldn’t hurt a fly,” she grimaced. “I hate violence. It doesn’t solve anything, just creates more problems.”   
  
Sarah smiled and helped her into her coat, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She slipped her own coat back on and took Cameal’s bag, before taking her arm gently, leading her out of the room. Cameal reached over and switched the light off as they passed, shutting the door behind them.   
  
It was quiet out in Fort Frolic. There were a few stragglers around. Most were drunk or were still getting drunk, a few were on the slots. She doubted Fort Frolic was ever quiet, if there was a time where the place was ever closed. There always seemed to be some sort of action going on.   
  
“How was the store today?” She asked Sarah, looking up at her with big eyes. “I was supposed to come and help today wasn’t I? Oh darn it! I’m so sor-.”   
  
“That’s tomorrow,” Sarah laughed. “You’re meant to be helping me tomorrow.”   
  
“Tomorrow,” she nodded her head. “Okay, I’ll remember.”   
  
“I’ll pick you up.”   
  
“You really don’t have to.”  
  
“Cammie,” Sarah grinned at her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I know you, you’ll get engrossed in your practicing again. You always do. It’s sweet.”   
  
Cameal blushed a little, looking away a moment. “Well, at least you find it sweet.”   
  
As they walked up to the Rapture Metro, they spotted LaLorna standing near the edge. She was clearly waiting for a bathysphere, but they both felt like she was standing too close. Cameal was surprised she was even leaving Fort Frolic. Some days it felt like LaLorna lived here, much to everyone else’s annoyance.   
  
They stopped a good distance from her. If she’d been drinking they didn’t want to have the verbal spat with the idiot.   
  
“Do you think I could push her in?” Sarah whispered to Cameal who giggled behind her hand.   
  
“Don’t be cruel,” she whispered back. “I don’t believe in violence, remember?”  
  
“I would do as peacefully as possible.”   
  
“Don’t do it,” she grinned at her. “All her make up would wash off. Do you really want to see what she looks like under all those layers?”   
  
Sarah grimaced slightly, pulling Cameal to her and nuzzling the top of her head. “You think her wig would come off and reveal her snake hair?” She whispered in her ear. Cameal laughed and whacked at Sarah’s arm, whispering stop it over and over in between her laughing. “Careful, don’t make too much noise, old Medusa over there might turn us to stone.”   
  
Cameal snorted and whacked at her arm again shaking her head. “You’re awful sometimes.”   
  
“Just being honest,” Sarah grinned.   
  
Cameal smiled softly at her, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair out of her face. She was so lucky to have found this person. Everything was perfect, it felt like everything had fallen into place. Well, maybe not quite everything…   
  
“I was thinking…”   
  
“Should I be worried?”   
  
Shaking her head and laughing Cameal pulled her a little closer. “No, no not at all… I was thinking… I want to start a family…”   
  
Sarah looked surprised but she began to smile back at her. “Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah..”   
  
“We’ll do it then,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around her. “We’ll do it, you and me.”   
  
“Forever?”  
  
“Always,” Sarah kissed her softly on the lips. “Always and forever.”

* * *

  
_Cameal Abigail,_   
  
_Happiness:_   
  
_We’ve moved in together. Sarah and me. Oh it’s a lovely little place in Mercury Suites. It’s perfect. “And look at us,” Sarah said, “Rubbing elbows with the rich and famous!”. Ha, it’s unreal!_   
  
_Now that we’ve got the house… we’re thinking of.. you know adopting. There’s an awful lot of orphans now and with the money we have… well we could give so many of them a chance! Doctor Lamb says we should unite and look out for each other, well those kids don’t have anyone looking out for them._   
  
_My Sarah and I… we found our happiness when we found each other, here’s hoping we’ll be able to help others find theirs._


	19. Heart of Stone

_Augustus Sinclair,_   
  
_Good business:_   
  
_This business deal with Fontaine and Cicil is working quite nicely. They pay me and I hand em over some poor souls who ain’t got nothin left. Plenty of em in Persephone. Fontaine’s got his ADAM and Cicil’s got whatever he’s doin, less I know about that lunatic, the better._

* * *

  
Sinclair stood on the walkway overlooking the main junction of Persephone. They were bringing in new people, new ‘parasites’ as Ryan was so fond of calling them. He did tend to throw that word around a lot these days. It was increasing by the day the number of times that word would enter a conversation, especially when he was talking to Sinclair.   
  
The last time they’d spoken, it had been about Lamb and working out just what she was up to. Sinclair had heard rumours of course, he did have another office in Pauper’s Drop and he’d heard enough folks talk about Lamb. It wasn’t talking about her that was the issue, it was how they were talking about her, like she was some sort of regal spirit. The walking on water kind.   
  
That wouldn’t do in Rapture. If she was creating her own little cult, Ryan was not going to tolerate it and now Sinclair had heard whispers of Lamb working with Ava. That had surprised him. He didn’t take Miss Tate as the type to get pulled in by all that mumbo jumbo. Not to mention those parties she threw. Sinclair had only been to a few once or twice, you always had to sign some sort of waiver before entering. That was enough information you needed to figure out what kind of parties Ava hosted.   
  
So Lamb being there made no sense to him. If anything, it made him nervous. Fair enough Lamb was able to talk to the down trodden and make a nobody feel like a somebody, but for her to be changing the opinions of the sombodys in this town? Well, that was a whole heap of trouble and it would hit people like him the hardest. Hell, her work with the poor at the moment was hitting him hard in some parts of the business. Workers laying down tools and declaring that they would no longer work without proper equal pay or some line like that.   
  
Lamb was starting to be less entertaining and more of an issue. One that was going to have to be dealt with sooner rather than later. Hopefully that little rat Poole will actually prove to be useful.   
  
“Sinclair!”   
  
Augustus looked up from his musing to see Fontaine walking towards him, his man Reggie right behind him same as usual. For a time Frank had stopped having Reggie following him around so much, but he obviously didn’t trust coming somewhere like Persephone without some sort of back up. Reggie was good back up. He was big and intimidating on his own, but he very openly carried a gun and was supposedly a good shot. He was the type of guy you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of. When he was standing with Fontaine he was passive, it would almost lure you into a false sense of security, but in actual fact, he was just waiting for the moment he needed to shoot. Or rip an arm off. Sinclair was certain that if Reggie really wanted to, he probably could and he wouldn’t need the ADAM to do it.   
  
“Fontaine,” Sinclair offered a smile. “Well this is a surprise. To what do I owe this visit?”   
  
Frank paused, glancing around the area they were standing in. He eyed the warden cautiously, before his attention was back on Sinclair. He looked uncomfortable. It wasn’t noticeable, to everyone else looking he’d seem the same as he always was, but to the trained eye? Well, Sinclair could practically feel the unease coming off him in waves. He didn’t want to be here and yet here he was.   
  
“Here to talk business.”   
  
“Ah,” Sinclair nodded. “Were the last few not to your liking? I gotta say, the one you sent back.. looked awful rough.”   
  
Fontaine shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked disinterested with that topic, meaning he was probably here to talk other business. Sinclair did deal with selling the Tonics and Plasmids now, he was thinking of selling them in smaller bottles as little collections. Gift baskets if you will. Just in time for Christmas.   
  
“Let’s take a walk,” Fontaine said, motioning for Reggie to stay where he was while he walked past Augustus towards some of the other walkways, this one was in the direction of Sinclair’s office in Persephone. So Fontaine obviously wanted to make this a private conversation.   
  
“Somethin’ on your mind, Chief?” Sinclair asked, catching up with Fontaine as the two walked past a few of the rotten and grimy cells of Persephone.   
  
Fontaine peered in one out of curiosity, grimaced at what he saw and turned his attention elsewhere.   
  
Sinclair understood. Not looking made it easier. He wouldn’t say the conditions bothered him too much, he weren’t the ones living in them after all and the Warden was in control of the living arrangements. Augustus just owned the place and dictated who they hired and how many guards or orderlies they had out at any time. He was also in control of who came in, so he was mighty surprised that Fontaine had even made it this far into the facility. He wandered if he bribed the girl on the desk, or flirted with her? Maybe he threatened her? In the end, it really didn’t matter, she would be fired after his visit.   
  
“How’s you coping with Lamb? Seen more and more of her name in the paper recently,” Frank glanced at him. “I thought you were sorting her out.”   
  
“Hm. You know business is taking a hit thanks to the little spiel she’s giving out,” Augustus pulled out a packet of cigarettes. “All this unity that and family this.”   
  
“Family?” Fontaine laughed. “That’s the line she’s goin’ with?”   
  
“Hey it’s workin’,” Sinclair shrugged. “But you and I both know it’s grade ‘A’ flim flam. Ain’t an ounce of truth behind it, but these poor souls are eatin’ it up like it’s their last meal.”   
  
“Solidarity angle was smart at first,” Fontaine mumbled. “Poor houses and bread lines? High. Grade. Bunko and you remember that religious rights debate?”   
  
Both men stopped and had a laugh about that. It had been a sight to behold. Watching old Andy Ryan squirming on that podium as he argued over religious freedom in Rapture. With free will being the primary selling point of Rapture, no sensor allowed, technically Ryan didn’t have any right to deny people their religion. Still, Ryan hated religion, he didn’t want it anywhere near his city. Fontaine was in many ways helping Lamb, indirectly of course, by bringing in bibles. Ryan didn’t know that or at least he didn’t have any proof of it. If he did, Sinclair and Fontaine could still be having this conversation in Persephone, just in a very different setting.   
  
“That was a good one,” Sinclair agreed with a smile. “Ol’ Andy Ryan’s face was priceless.”   
  
“Ya gotta wonder if she planned the whole thing just to watch him squirm up there in his money suit,” Frank was grinning, his eyes were alight with the pleasure he got from the memory alone. “Lamb’s only problem is.. she really buys into the whole song and dance.”   
  
This was new. Sinclair hadn’t heard about this. Any grifter worth their salt could see that Lamb was a grifter too, she just had a few extra college degrees where most of them did not. She was a smart, well educated woman and she was using that to her advantage. Lifting the people up in some sort of uprising against Ryan. All peaceful for now, but it wouldn’t take long for blood to be shed, Sinclair was certain of that.   
  
“Buying in to it?” He tilted his head. “Now just what do you mean by that, Frank?”   
  
“You ain’t heard?” Fontaine looked surprised. “I figured you had as many feelers out there as I did, Augustus. I got a fella in Lamb’s little cult she’s brewin’ down there and she honestly believes that what she’s doing is right,” he was grinning again. “Stupid woman fell for her own con.”   
  
“Ah,” Sinclair placed a hand on his chest, mocking a gesture of sorrow. “The fall of many a great con artist. I’m actually surprised though, figured she’d be smarter than that.”   
  
“You ain’t the only one,” Frank mused. “I was actually impressed for a time. I mean,” he gestured around him. “Tricking one guy ain’t hard, but a whole city?” He laughed, the grin getting a little sharper around the edges, his eyes flashed with something that Sinclair couldn’t quite decipher. “Well, that’s a thing of beauty.”   
  
He wasn’t wrong. Sinclair had woven plenty of tall tales to get his own way, he lied to and betrayed anyone so long as it was good for business. He’d been doing this game probably just as long if not longer than Frank had. Then again, there was always something of an old school kind of guy with Frank. He’d caught him one time stealing a watch right off someone’s wrist and only the most accomplished pick pockets did that.   
  
Pick pockets really were the table scraps of their world, mostly it was children who did it to get by. Sinclair had seen a few on the streets in his time, hell, he’d seen a few in Rapture. Sometimes the talent was continued into adulthood, but most pick pocket thieves left that life and instead went into proper robberies or more shader types of business.   
  
So for Fontaine to be doing it still… well, it made no sense. The man was a brilliant grifter, Sinclair would admit that in the privacy of his own head, so he figured that little habit was just that. A habit. Something Fontaine couldn’t help himself doing, almost like he enjoyed the thrill of almost getting caught.   
  
“I’ll admit,” Sinclair nodded. “That at the start she really was working wonders, but it stopped being so entertaining about two months ago,” he fixed Fontaine with a look. “I’ve been having issues with workers layin’ down their tools. Nothin’ I can’t handle, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”   
  
“Can’t you just…” Fontaine hooked a thumb in the direction of the cells and shrugged a little.   
  
Augustus laughed. “You know I wish I could,” he finally lit the cigarette he’d been carrying for the past few minutes. “But you know Ryan. He wants everythin’ done by the book. Can’t just solve the problem until we’ve got evidence. Least that’s what his man Sullivan is telling me.”   
  
“Yeah?” Frank raised an eyebrow. “And you’re expectin’ me to believe that Ryan ain’t got some plan to get that evidence? Who’s he got spyin’ on her?”   
  
“How should I know?” Sinclair shrugged, slipping his lighter away in his pocket. “You think he tells me anythin’? Ryan ain’t too keen on spillin’ secrets. That’s somethin’ you both got in common.”   
  
Frank looked angry for a moment for being compared to Ryan. He really did hate him, though Sinclair suspected that Frank wouldn’t call it hate. He’d say that Ryan just irritated him, but there was no mistaking that look. He hated Ryan without a shadow of doubt and Ryan felt exactly the same about him.   
  
“Don’t give me that look, Frank. You know I’m right,” he blew smoke to the ceiling, finally coming to his office. The door slid up to the ceiling and the two men entered. “You know, Chief, this little chat about Lamb has been fun and all, but I have a feelin’ you’re here to talk about somethin’ else.”   
  
Fontaine looked uncertain for the first time since Sinclair met him. He glanced at the door, watching as it slid shut, before turning his attention back to Sinclair. He seemed to be keeping his distance from the other, pulling out his cigarette case and reaching for his lighter. He was stalling.   
  
“Frank?”   
  
“You know Ms Em’s kid?”   
  
Sinclair was surprised that was coming up. Sure he’d met the little tyke at the Futuristics reveal and he’d been a bright kid. Smart for someone his age, quick too if his reply to Fontaine’s comment about his height was anything to go by. Kid had a mouth on him, just like his damn mother did. Sinclair already felt like he was going to be a handful.   
  
“Sure I’ve seen him around,” he nodded. “Had to up her rent because of it. She was none too pleased about that.”  
  
“You surprised?” Frank raised an eyebrow. “Ya pay extortionate prices for that piece of trash anyway, Sinclair,” he lit the cigarette, taking a drag and blowing the smoke to the ceiling. “He’s becomin’ a problem.”   
  
“He’s a kid,” Sinclair frowned. “Other than you trippin’ over him I don’t see what type of problem he could be causin’.”   
  
Fontaine frowned a second. “He needs to go.”  
  
“Go?”   
  
“Disappear. I don’t care. Hell, lock him up in here if you have to.”   
  
“I ain’t in the business of kidnapping children, Fontaine,” he gave him a pointed look. “And neither are you.”   
  
Frank sighed, rubbing his eyes in irritation. He looked tired and frustrated about something. If it was the kid, Sinclair wasn’t sure what to make of that. How much harm could a little boy do?   
  
“He’s becomin’ a distraction.”   
  
“For _who_ , Frank?”  
  
“Who’d you think?! Em!” he gestured with his hand. “She’s constantly worryin’ ‘bout the snot nosed brat. He’s distracting her from her work.”   
  
Sinclair raised an eyebrow and replied carefully. “And you think makin’ him disappear will solve that problem?”   
  
“Yes. No, I don’t…” he closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s a nuisance.”   
  
“This sounds more like a ‘you’ problem,” he tapped some ash off his cigarette. “Frank, you probably know Ms Em better than I do, but making her son disappear seems like a damn idiotic idea. You really think she’s goin’ to focus any better if she don’t know where her tyke is?”   
  
This wasn’t like Fontaine. The man was smart. He’d know that making the kid disappear would make Ms Em worry and panic. It felt more like the excuse of him distracting Ms Em was just that. An excuse and a rather flimsy one at that.   
  
“It sounds to me like you’re the one with the issue here,” he narrowed his eyes. “But I ain’t helpin’ you out in solving it. I may not be an honest man, but there are lines, Frank,” he fixed him with a look. “That you don’t cross.”   
  
“Oh yeah?” Fontaine smirked at him. “You crossed those lines a long time ago, don’t try and kid ya’self Augustus,” he leaned across the desk pointing at him. “You crossed those lines the moment you started handin’ me guys on a silver platter. Bound and unconscious, no questions asked, ‘cause let’s be real here, who’d wanna know the answers?”   
  
“I ain’t sayin’ I’m a saint, Fontaine,” Sinclair bit back. “But I ain’t putting child murder on my rap sheet.”   
  
Fontaine sat back staring at him. “Who the hell said anythin’ ‘bout killing the kid? No, I just want him gone,” he gestured to the door behind him. “You’ve got plenty of cells back there, Sinclair.”   
  
Sinclair was quiet for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure he was hearing this right. Fontaine almost seemed desperate to make this kid disappear.   
  
“I’m gonna assume here,” Sinclair started, taping some more ash into the ash tray. “That you’re aware of how the prison system works,” he glanced up at Fontaine with a cold look. “I’d like you to tell me just how long ya’ reckon a five year old is gonna survive in a place like this?”   
  
Fontaine was silent and that was answer enough.   
  
“You’d be killin’ the kid regardless, Fontaine,” Sinclair continued. “Maybe not directly, but indirectly… it’s still murder. You sure you want that on your conscious?” He looked down at the desk a moment. “ ‘Cause I sure don’t.”   
  
“You ain’t got no conscious.”  
  
“But I do have rules.”   
  
Frank laughed at that, leaning back from the desk and looking relaxed, but he was anything but. He looked to be contemplating murder and Sinclair wasn’t too sure if he’d chicken out. Fontaine wasn’t a man who shied away from violence. Plenty of his men had conveniently disappeared at the Fisheries. Bodies usually turned up a few days later, face down in the water, bloated and pale. The clear signs of someone who’d drowned and that was what it was put down as. An unfortunate drowning. Those seemed to happen a lot though and you didn’t have to be an Einstein to figure out what was going on.   
  
You made a mistake you were cut from the crew. Permanently.   
  
Still, killing a grown man was one thing, killing a child was something completely different. Sinclair honestly couldn’t believe that Fontaine was even entertaining the idea.   
  
“Fontaine?”   
  
Frank glanced at him, his eyes looked dark in the small amount of light the office actually had. Being this side of Rapture didn’t exactly give you much in light source, but it was hidden. No one knew they were here, only a select few knew about Persephone and an even smaller group of people knew what was really going on behind closed doors.   
  
“You stay away from that kid,” Sinclair crossed his arms. “I don’t give a damn how irritating he may be. He’s Em’s kid. You really think she’s going to-.”   
  
“I ain’t gonna kill the goddamn kid, Sinclair!”   
  
“You sure?” He hissed. “ ‘Cause to me it looked like you were thinkin’ about it.”   
  
“If the kid ain’t careful…” Fontaine mumbled. “It’s not me that he’s gotta worry ‘bout. Suchong and Tenenbaum… more Suchong than the Kraut,” Frank took a drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash to the floor which irritated Sinclair some. “The way that bastard looks at the kid…”  
  
“How we talkin’?”   
  
“Kid ain’t a person to him,” Fontaine paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone’s much of a person to Suchong.”   
  
“You think they’re gonna do somethin’ to him?”   
  
“They won’t,” Fontaine smirked slightly. “I made sure of that.”   
  
Sinclair raised an eyebrow. He was starting to get it now or at least he thought he did. It wasn’t that Fontaine didn’t like the kid, quite the opposite actually. He liked Ms Em’s kid. He was fond of him. Sinclair could see it now in his face, whenever he spoke about the boy his face would soften just a touch. That was a problem. He couldn’t care about anyone down here, but for some unknown reason, Fontaine cared about the boy.   
  
He didn’t think that speaking these things out loud was a good idea though. Fontaine would most likely shoot him dead on the spot. Sinclair always felt the man was a little trigger happy. Almost like he couldn’t wait to pull the trigger some times, like he was looking for an excuse.   
  
Sinclair also didn’t think he wanted to know just what he meant by ‘I made sure of that’, but he was certain it wasn’t pretty. Fontaine could be quite creative with his threats. He’d seen him in a mood before when dealing with his guys at the Fisheries and some of the things he was threatening was enough to make a grown man cry.   
  
“He’s a smart kid, isn’t he?” Sinclair tried, watching Fontaine’s reaction.   
  
A flicker of a smile came across the man’s face, but it was gone so fast that had Sinclair not been looking for it, he probably would never have seen it.   
  
“Too smart fer his own good sometimes,” he mused, taking another drag of his cigarette. “So, Lamb. You dealing with her?”   
  
“You know I would,” Sinclair sighed, he was glad they were moving away from the topic of the kid. “But Ryan wants evidence. Only problem is, he’s expectin’ his evidence to just appear on a silver platter before him.”   
  
Fontaine looked out of the window thinking. “He wants it easy?” He looked back at Sinclair and flashed a grin. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”  
  
“Not as simple,” he sighed. “I think he almost wants Lamb to admit she’s making a little cult down there, on tape,” he rubbed at his eyes. This Lamb problem was tiring him out. “Even worse… she’s moving through the ranks, if you will. She’s already got Ava Tate in on this.”   
  
“Tate?” Fontaine rose an eyebrow. “Thought she was pro Ryan? Least that’s what Kelly’s told me…” a sly grin slipped on his face at the mention of Sinclair’s old receptionist.   
  
There was still a bit of bad blood between them about that. Kelly had been a damn good secretary and even better businesswoman. She knew how to talk to people and was just as good as Sinclair was when it came to weaving a pretty little lie. Not to mention, her way of using her body as a weapon was a real ace. You couldn’t take it away from her and she knew just how to batter her eyes and twirl her hair to get men falling to their knees.   
  
She’d been useful and then Frank stole her. Offered her a bigger salary, which was something Sinclair couldn’t really blame her for and then she was gone. Packing up her desk and setting up shop in the Futuristics building. Sometimes when Sinclair paid a visit to Fontaine in his office, Kelly would be at her desk and she’d wave and smile. Sometimes they’d even chat for a bit. The point was, Fontaine had stolen one of Sinclair’s best assets and he was awful smug about it.   
  
“Miss Christie did spend an awful lot of time at those shin digs,” Sinclair mused. “It’s where we met after all. I was rather impressed…” he trailed off.   
  
“Oh,” Fontaine grinned, his tone changing to nothing but mockery. “She’s _impressive_ alright. Impressive from every angle. Vertical,” he smirked at Sinclair. “ _Horizontal_.”   
  
“Of that I am well aware,” Sinclair replied with a smile of his own. Frank wasn’t getting him with that, he knew of Kelly’s habits. “Though, I wonder…” he tapped his chin. “If she’s told you about Ava’s latest little fix it drug?”  
  
“Why should she? Not like I care about narcotics.”   
  
“Oh, but I really think you will, Frank,” Sinclair grinned. “You see, Ava’s made this little thing called EDEN. I don’t know the full ins and outs of the stuff, but I know she’s using your ADAM as the base for it,” he smirked at the sudden look of fury on Fontaine’s face. “It’s become quite the hit, I hear. A lot of her guests are no longer buying from you, they’re buying from her,” he tapped the ash off his cigarette again, before stubbing it out. “Miss Christie didn’t mention that?”   
  
“No, she did not,” Frank growled, stubbing out his own cigarette and standing up to leave.   
  
“Perhaps she thought you already knew,” Sinclair mused, looking at Frank’s back and the rigid posture he now held. It was nice to have the drop on him for once.   
  
Fontaine held a finger up, “Ya know,” he started, turning to look at Sinclair behind him. “How ya’ said you don’t want certain things resting on your conscious…?” He turned to face Sinclair completely. “I wonder if how I deal with Miss Christie will be one of those things that just…” he clapped his hands together before gesturing to the open air around them. “Won’t matter a damn to you?”   
  
Sinclair fished another cigarette out of his pocket, not even bothering to look at Fontaine. “If you do get rid of her,” Sinclair said, still not looking at him. “Then feel free to offer Sally on the front desk her job. I’ll be firing her after you’ve gone,” Augustus finally looked up at Frank with a smile. “You could be her knight in shinin’ armour and sweep her off her feet.”   
  
Fontaine grit his teeth, fists clenched at his sides and abruptly turned on his heel to leave. These games they played were dangerous. Entertaining sure, but dangerous all the same. You had to be careful not to overplay your hand and you had to be careful not to let the other get to you too much. Sinclair didn’t think Fontaine would do anything to Kelly. She was useful and there would be no easy way to make her disappear. The boys at Neptune’s Bounty had accidents, accidents that were easy to fake, but a secretary just disappearing out of thin air? That didn’t happen.   
  
Sinclair let him leave, he’d won this game but he had no doubt that Fontaine would come back hitting harder. It’s what usually happened if Sinclair ever won these verbal games. Fontaine would come back with more biting words and a cool sort of arrogance to him.   
  
Though, in this little chat, Fontaine had overplayed his hand. He’d admitted, maybe he hadn’t realised it, but he’d admitted to caring for Em’s kid. That was an interesting revelation. An Opportunity that Sinclair couldn’t simply pass up on, but he’d have to be certain. He’d have to see that care with his own eyes before he decided to play that hand. He wouldn’t hurt the kid, killing children wasn’t his method of doing business, but he knew plenty of people who would be just dying for that kind of dirt on Fontaine.   
  
Ryan, Cicil, Poole, hell even Lamb would benefit from knowing that kind of information.   
  
Sinclair smiled, leaning back in his seat and lighting another cigaret. Sometimes, the best thing you could do in business was play the bigger guys against each other and pick up the spoils afterwards. For instance, this little deal with Persephone. Ryan had a problem, Sinclair got rid of the problem, he’d then send the problem to Fontaine or Cicil in the guise of test subjects and he’d get double the money. It was good business and Sinclair liked good, clean business.   
  
“Just business, son,” he mused to himself, placing the lighter down on the table and smiling to himself. “Just damn good business.”

* * *

  
Kyburz ran over his checks again, eyes flickering from the clipboard, to the dials and back to the clipboard again. He marked down the number, before looking at a different set of dials and back at the clipboard, repeating his action.   
  
It was a slow day in Hephestus, a lot of workers weren’t in because they were protesting or something. Kyburz wasn’t entirely sure what they were protesting exactly. It made no sense, to him since they were all getting paid. Granted it wasn’t a lot, but at least they were getting money. Some poor folk were barely making table scraps.   
  
He jumped out of his skin as Daniel suddenly appeared next to him, slamming his toolbox down on one of the pipes.   
  
“Jesus Christ, Daniel…”   
  
“Have you heard?”   
  
“Heard what?”   
  
Daniel looked around, almost like he was nervous to even be speaking about this or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be speaking about it? A lot of people had gotten jumpy as of late. Scared about saying anything a bit out of line.   
  
“Gregory Thomas, you know who worked on the main core?” Daniel glanced around again licking his lips. “He’s gone off and joined Lamb.”   
  
“Joined?” Kyburz raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean he’s working for her?”   
  
“Like hell he does,” Pablo said walking over to them, he’d obviously heard their conversation and decided to join in. He always did tend to but in to other people’s business. “He means Gregory has joined Lamb. Way I hear it, she’s got her own little cult brewin’ down there.”   
  
“Down where?”   
  
“Pauper’s Drop,” Daniel replied gloomily. He rubbed at his eyes, glancing once more, before opening his tool box and slipping a poster out.   
  
He’d torn it down from the wall, its edges were ripped and torn, but the main picture and the important parts of the advertisement were still in tact. On the poster was an image of a butterfly, like the sort you saw kids make when they painted one side, folded the paper and then opened it up. Or maybe it was more like those inkblot things you saw the head doctors using? Apparently you were supposed to see things in the pictures and depending on what you saw either meant your were healthy or mentally unstable.   
  
The poster was advertising the work of Doctor Lamb and how she was there to listen to any of their complaints. It was telling the people of Pauper’s Drop that they weren’t alone, that someone saw them, someone heard their voices and was willing to help make a change. On paper it didn’t seem like a bad thing. Kyburz had seen the Drop, it was awful and just the thought of Em and Clayton living there made his blood boil.   
  
At the thought of Em, he frowned. They still hadn’t patched things up. She mostly ignored him, only speaking about work when she had to and handing in reports, answering any questions he had when it came to work. When it came to small talk she would answer bluntly and usually with one word. She wasn’t happy with him still, keeping her distance and maybe he should stop trying. He didn’t want to stop trying, of course he didn’t. Em was important to him, he cared about her. He cared about her a lot.   
  
“You see?” Daniel said, pointing at the picture. Kyburz felt Pablo leaning over his shoulder to look at it with them. “It’s crazy. Sure she says all those things about listening and stuff, but I’ve seen a few people come out of those sessions and it’s like a completely different person.”   
  
Pablo raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the point of them head doctors?”   
  
“They’re meant to make a person better!” Daniel argued, pointing at the poster again. “Those guys come out of that place and they’re not better. Hell, I don’t even think there’s a person in there anymore.”   
  
“Whoa, whoa,” Pablo held his hand up to Daniel. “Are you suggesting this bitch is brainwashing people? You realise how crazy that sounds?”   
  
Daniel scrunched up his nose in annoyance. “Why does everyone keep saying that? We are standing in a city at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean!” He angrily pointed at Pablo’s hand. “You’re shooting fire and electricity out of your finger tips! We’ve past the point of crazy!”   
  
“He has a point,” Kyburz sighed, rubbing at his eyes.   
  
Pablo frowned. “All of that is science,” he argued, pointing at the poster again. “You’re suggesting something completely insane!”   
  
Daniel ran a hand down his face looking both angry and exasperated with Pablo. He snatched the poster out of Kyburz’s hands and folded it away into his tool box again. He glanced around once more looking nervous again.   
  
“You really think it’s that crazy?” He hissed. “Listen to me, people in the Drop ain’t happy.”   
  
“There’s a lot of people in this shit hole that ain’t happy, Daniel.”   
  
“Yeah, but not like in the drop,” he licked his lips nervously. “The people there haven’t got anything to loose. They’re angry, tried and hungry. They want something to change and something’s gotta change or else Mister Ryan is gonna have a riot on his hands.”   
  
Kyburz glanced at him. “It’s gotten that bad?”   
  
“It’s been that bad for a while now, just this Lamb woman is feeding the fire. She’s making it worse. By showing she cares is showing that Ryan doesn’t care and a lot of people in that place didn’t even want to come down here in the first place!” He glanced around again, leaning closer so he could whisper. “But because they knew where Rapture was… Ryan wouldn’t let them leave. He made them stay. Said they’d find work soon enough… and soon enough they’re living in poverty with barely a penny to their name.”   
  
“Ryan forced them to stay?”   
  
“Hey, you know what Ryan’s like,” Pablo mumbled, nudging Kyburz a little with his elbow. “I believe in free will so long as it’s inline with my version of it.”   
  
“Don’t say that so loud!” Daniel hissed. “You don’t know who’s listening!”   
  
“The hell? Daniel what’s gotten-.”   
  
“I think he’s making people disappear!” He hissed at him. “I don’t wanna disappear, do you?”   
  
“Disappear?”   
  
Kyburz got a horrible feeling in his gut. That horrible feeling only got worse the more Daniel spoke. People in the Drop were going missing and no one knew where they were going. No one saw them again, they’d just disappear. Usually after they’d been arrested.   
  
He felt sick, because he knew where they were being taken. He’d been working on it, he’d spent months working on it. Making it ready for if and when it ever needed to be used. He’d laughed and scoffed in hope it never would be. This place was utopia, what was the point of a prison? You wouldn’t need it.   
  
Apparently now you did and Ryan was arresting people who were probably stealing to feed their family. He saw them as parasites because they hadn’t bothered to find work and instead had decided to take the ‘easy’ option as he would say. Feeding off other people’s work, but if Daniel was telling the truth, then a lot of those poor sods had tried to get work but couldn’t. They’d wanted to leave and couldn’t. They were stuck with no way out and no hope of getting any money.  
  
It was easy to see why people were gravitating to this Sofia Lamb. Hell, Kyburz had even heard whispers of Fontaine maybe getting involved in the charity business. He’d opened up that clinic in the Drop, it was ran by that crazy psycho doctor Cicil, but it was cheap. It was affordable for the people down there, so of course they jumped at the chance to get medicine.   
  
“Persephone…” he whispered, eyes wide and staring at nothing in particular, but around him the atmosphere changed.   
  
Daniel and Pablo had froze at the mere mention of the place. Rapture’s dirty little secret that only a few knew of and that no one would want to know of. That place was awful and Kyburz had only seen it while he was working on it.  
  
“Don’t…” Pablo swallowed, glancing around the room in fear, finally looking nervous for once. “Don’t go speaking that name…” he hissed at him. “We don’t talk about that place. It doesn’t exist.”   
  
“But it does,” Daniel said meekly.   
  
Pablo grabbed him by the front of the shirt, almost pulling him off his feet. “It ain’t real!” He hissed at him. “We don’t talk about it, so it ain’t real.”   
  
“Pablo,” Kyburz pulled the two apart. “It is real,” he stood in between Daniel and Pablo. “It’s real, we worked on it.”   
  
“Yeah…” Pablo was wide eyed, they looked glassy, erratic. “Where is it then? ‘Case it ain’t… it ain’t on no map of Rapture. None that I’ve seen. It ain’t on the map, it ain’t real.”   
  
Kyburz and Daniel looked at each other. They got it. They liked to pretend that the place wasn’t real either. That it didn’t exist and was just a fever dream. That they’d worked on something else for Sinclair and that awful place wasn’t real.   
  
It certainly made it easier to think that than admit it was real. The moment you admitted that place existed was admitting that all the rumours they’d heard about it were true too. The things they’d heard, the rumours about the conditions. How people went in but didn’t come out. How people just disappeared…   
  
“It’s real whether you like it or not!” Kyburz hissed. “That’s where they’re going. That’s where they’re staying.”   
  
“Shouldda been more careful then, shouldn’t they?” Pablo snapped back. “Just why the hell did you agree to help make that place?”   
  
“We didn’t know!” Daniel cried, sounding distressed, putting his head in his hands. “We didn’t know… we didn’t know…”  
  
“Fat load of good that’s done anyone!” Pablo hissed, before looking to Kyburz. “You’re supposed to be the smart one. What the hell were you thinking?”  
  
“I was thinking I wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.”   
  
It was true, he’d hated working on Persephone. It was an awful place. He’d told himself at first the reason he hated it so much was because he was working for Sinclair. Because Sinclair had tricked both him and Daniel and that was why he hated the building so much. After a while though, it became clear why he hated the place. There was something off with Persephone. Right from the very beginning, it’s location, the fact that it didn’t turn up on any maps in Rapture and that it was place that was never mentioned in the papers. It was a secret. Probably the biggest Rapture had.   
  
There was something else that bothered Kyburz about it though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the trench resting underneath it? Maybe it was the secret passage they’d made? Of course, it wasn’t called a ‘secret passage’, but you didn’t have to be a genius to work out what it was.   
  
“Listen to me,” Kyburz hissed. “The only thing we can do, that any of us can do, is keep our heads down. Do our work and keep our heads _down_.”   
  
Pablo and Daniel stared at him, but he knew they knew he was right. They had no choice. Of course he wanted to give them better options. He wanted to give them a better solution, but they didn’t have one. They could only do their work and hope that no one thought they stepped out of line. They could only hope that they never became so desperate that any piece of income, no matter what it costed you, would appeal to them. That’s what it was like for the people of the Drop.   
  
Kyburz couldn’t imagine being so desperate that the only thing that mattered to him was money, not how he earned it.   
  
“That’s some pretty shit options, Kyburz,” Pablo mumbled.   
  
“Yeah well, it’s not like we’ve got any other choice is it?” He hissed. “Besides. If you wanted the ability to chose, you should’ve stayed on dry land.”

* * *

  
“What about this one?”   
  
“Too many bows.”   
  
“This one?”   
  
“Too much pink.”   
  
“This one?”   
  
Opal raised an eyebrow at Kelly as she looked over the orange dress. “No.”   
  
Kelly sighed and hung up the bridesmaid dress that she’d picked out, looking at Rosa and Cammie’s picks which they still held in their hands.   
  
Opal was sitting on one of the sort lounge seats in the wedding shop, Em was next to her reading an engineering paper back of some sort, while Diane was inspecting some shoes.   
  
They were looking for the perfect bridesmaid dresses, Opal and her sister Rosa had already found and bought Opal’s wedding dress. This was proving to be harder though however, since they were trying to accommodate for everyone and Opal at the same time.   
  
Em glanced up at the orange dress and grimaced slightly. “Are you trying to make me look like a tree in fall?”   
  
Kelly pouted. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t care about your looks.”   
  
Diane was next to speak up from her place by the shoes. “It isn’t the best dress you could’ve picked out, Kelly.”   
  
“Besides,” Rosa said as she hung up the dress she’d picked out that had been dubbed to have too many bows. “Opal wants it to go with blue. In what world does orange go with blue?”   
  
“It does though!” Kelly argued. “If you want to be loud, blue and orange will do that.”   
  
“Or if you want to burn out the retinas in your guests eyes,” Em mumbled flicking over to the next page.   
  
Opal sniggered slightly, while the others just smiled and laughed silently. Watching Kelly and Em bicker was always a fun experience. They acted more like sisters than they did friends. That was how close they were. Of course none of the arguments were real. They were a bit of fun. Some silly little moments of bickering and both parties seemed to poke at the other to get each other riled up.   
  
“Okay little miss fashion,” Kelly rolled her eyes. “You pick out a dress.”   
  
“I’d pick anything that wasn’t orange,” Em shrugged, flicking another page in the book. “Look blue goes with most things right? Not orange,” she gave Kelly a pointed look.   
  
“We’d look like we were going to a circus,” Cameal shrugged, fixing her blue butterfly pin on her dress.   
  
“I think you mean, we’d look like we were part of a circus.”   
  
“Oh you lot are just boring,” Kelly huffed looking through the other colours. “Well how about this? We go for a blue dress?”   
  
Opal considered this a moment. It would make sense. It would make the flowers she’d ordered look perfect, but would it be too much blue? That was a number one question.   
  
“Won’t that be too much blue?” She rose an eyebrow.   
  
“What are your flowers?” Diane asked, coming to sit on the other side of her.   
  
“Forget me nots,” Opal smiled. “Daniel and me, we had our first date amongst the forget me nots… it’s perfect. That’s also where we’re holding the wedding.”   
  
“You need to give me the date for that,” Kelly said over her shoulder, flicking through the dresses again. “I need to pick up a date.”   
  
“No sailors,” Em piped up.   
  
“What have you got against sailors?”   
  
“They’re from Neptune’s Bounty,” she frowned. “Daniel and me are from Hephestus. We don’t get on.”  
  
“Don’t forget Kyburz,” Opal reminded her. “He’s Daniel’s best man after all.”   
  
Em frowned, going back to her book in stead of answering. Around her, the others glanced at each other in confusion but also worry. They knew Em and Kyburz were good friends. They’d been good friends since the start of Rapture, but whenever they brought the Aussie up Em would either evade the conversation or she’d not answer. It wasn’t like her at all and apparently things had been heated between the two of them in Hephestus or at least that’s what Daniel had said.  
  
“Okay, honey,” Opal sighed turning to Em. “What’s going on?”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“Every time we bring up Kyburz,” Kelly only said his name and Em’s frown deepened causing the woman to point at her. “You do that. You frown. What’s happened?”  
  
“I thought you and Kyburz were friends?”   
  
“We… we’ve had a falling out,” Em shrugged. “He was a jerk, I was a bitch. We’ll figure it out, but I don’t want to talk about it.”   
  
“Yes but-.”   
  
“It’s Opal’s wedding we should be focusing on,” Em cut across bluntly, burying her nose in her book again.   
  
Kelly sighed a little but went back to looking through the dresses. They all knew better than to push Em when she didn’t want to be pushed. It was probably the thing that Kyburz had done, Emilie did tend to get rather defensive whenever that happened. She was closed off when it came to her own feelings at times.   
  
“What about this one?” Rosa asked pulling out a blue dress with a lace top. It was long, resting at their ankles and the lace looked like roses. The colour was a deep royal blue, it was rich in colour and it was stylish. “It’ll go with your wedding dress.”   
  
Opal looked it over. She got up and reached for the dress, running her fingers over the materiel. Rosa was right, it matched her wedding dress perfectly. It wasn’t too over the top and it wasn’t too flamboyant. It was just right. The perfect dress to go with her own dress.   
  
Smiling Opal nodded. “That’s it… that’s the dress for the bridesmaids,” she held it up for the others to see. “It’s perfect!”   
  
It really felt like everything was coming together. It was perfect, everyone was settling down nicely and if Em had fallen out with Kyburz well they’d get over it soon enough. Both Em and Kyburz liked each other too much to stay mad at each other forever. They just needed to calm down. For now though, everything was coming together. Everything was perfect.

* * *

  
_Rosa Delores,_   
  
_Maid of honour:_   
  
_My sister’s getting married! I can’t believe it, I never thought Opal would ever settle down. I thought she’ stay single forever! I guess the heard wants what the heart wants and Daniel is such a lovely man. Maybe a little down but Opal pieces him right up! They’re like chalk and cheese but that means they only compliment each other._   
  
_I’m maid of honour, Opal, Em, Diane and Kelly are all going dress shopping tomorrow, me too of courses, can’t have a wedding without a maid of honour. Oh it’s going to be so perfect, I’m so happy for her… if only ma and pa were here…_


	20. Tequila

_Amélie LaLorna,_   
  
_I’m an actress:_   
  
_The nerve of some people. It’s almost unbearable. Some petit idiot pleurnichard I’d been seeing for a while, Piear something, asked for my hand in marriage. Me?! Well, I declined of course, I’m not wasting my time with such nonsense. I’m an actress, not a house wife._

* * *

  
“What do you think of it? I believe I’ve captured the very heart of my vision in the entrance alone, but- oh, well you tell me how I did,” Cohen grinned at Steinman excitedly.   
  
Steinman glanced at the artist before looking ahead at the entrance to his club. He’d set it up on High Street and the way to the entrance was marked by a long red carpet. Either side of the carpet were pillars and people were standing on the pillars moving in various ways. Extending their arms to the ceiling, stretching out their legs, all wearing those horrid rabbit masks and their feet were haloed by light shining upwards from the podiums they stood on. The entrance to the club had a giant rabbit mask framing the door, an Art Deco sign above it with a man standing behind the sign and doing similar movements to the ones on the podiums. He also was decorated in a rabbits mask and had light shining upwards, casting a long shadow on the wall behind him. The place was simply called ‘Cohen’ and the door was a steel door with a little sliding window to see who was outside.   
  
Steinman thought it was over the top and completely bonkers. So yes, it was Cohen’s ‘vision’ to a ’T’, it fit the artist perfectly. He couldn’t believe that Cohen thought it might not fit his vision.   
  
“I think anyone will know this is yours,” he replied, pointing at the sign. “Given that you named the club after yourself, but I needn’t think you should’ve bothered. Everyone would know this is yours.”   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
“ _Trust me_ ,” Steinman replied bluntly, glancing up at structure again. “No one will think it belongs to anyone else.”   
  
Cohen breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the man. He’d taken to wearing makeup recently, today it wasn’t as heavy. Sometimes he would cover his entire face in white make up and wax his moustache, even paint extra eyelashes onto his face. Sometimes he even wore false ones. Today, however, it seemed he was going for a more natural look. If you could call scarlet lipstick, gaudy blue eyeshadow and drawing on his eyebrows a ‘natural’ look.   
  
Cohen insisted that everyone he asked said he looked positively divine. Steinman believed that was because they were all too terrified to say anything else. Sander had become a little sporadic recently. More so than usual. He was also taking a lot more tonics and plasmids. Must of gotten over his fear of needles pretty quick.   
  
“Well, this is simply the outside,” Cohen hooked his arm through Steinman’s and dragged the surgeon towards the entrance. “Wait until you see the inside.”   
  
“Sander I have patients.”   
  
“Oh don’t try and pawn me off on that little lie,” Sander fixed him with a look. “We both know you don’t give two figs about your patients. You only want to play with your tools. I know you, my dear Steinman.”   
  
Steinman only blinked at him in response. He hand’t meant to come with Cohen to his club, but the man had insisted and then pushed Steinman out of the Kashmir restaurant into a bathysphere. That was how he ended up here, he was still dressed in his best suit and tie. Cohen had undone his bow tie and let it hang around his neck the moment they left the restaurant. His coat hung off his shoulders, but he didn’t have his silk scarf this time.   
  
Cohen opened the door to his club and Steinman hissed at the bright light from inside. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes before removing it once he got used to the light.   
  
The room was incredibly sterile. It was a white polished room, he was certain if you looked at the floor he’d be able to see his face reflected back at him. The ceiling had so many electric lights that it made the whole room glow. It looked like polished marble but he couldn’t be sure. The only thing in the room was a desk and a man standing behind it. The only dark thing in the entire room due to the suit he was wearing.  
  
“This is what you’re showing me?” Steinman asked incredulously. “A white room?”   
  
“Oh you bore,” Cohen huffed, shaking his head. “No, no, no!” He almost sounded like he was on the verge of a tantrum. “This is simply a place for my audience to rid themselves of the phoney beliefs. To disregard what they are told is art and embrace what is _truly_ art. _My_ work, for example,” he grinned and pulled Steinman along again.   
  
Sander Cohen was acting very much like an excited child. Steinman wondered just how much ADAM he’d had, he himself was getting a little sporadic recently. Leaving operating rooms without scrubbing down properly. Many of the woman he was forced to deal with almost fainted at the sight of him covered in blood. He didn’t know why they were so shocked, what did they think happened in surgery? The blood didn’t just stop flowing.   
  
Still, his nurse… Rosa? Yes, he was certain it was Rosa, had insisted that he be more careful. Something about his reputation or another. He’d stopped listening, he was fascinated by her round face. He was wondering how long it would take to just scrape away the muscle to reveal the cheek bones. Maybe polish up the bone itself? Certainly would be a fashion statement in his opinion, no one else like it. He couldn’t voice his opinions yet, of course. The best he could do was experiment with pictures and create elaborate collages. They were so boring though.   
  
His attention was brought back to the present as the wall he had been staring at disappeared to show a long dark passageway. He was dragged into that also.   
  
“Sander, how is anyone supposed to see?”   
  
“Hush now. Just you wait.”   
  
As if on cue, an outline of one of those rabbit masks lit up. It was as big as the corridor and then Steinman realised that the corridor itself was in the shape of those masks. He didn’t find the appeal of them, but Sander had designed them. Maybe he could make a masquerade mask out of human skin? That sounded doable. He just needed to find a fresh body first.   
  
Finally they reached the centre of the club, on the top floor which spiralled down to a round room with a platform in the centre of it. All the spotlights were directed on that spot, but when Steinman focussed on the centre he saw two harnesses hanging in the air. Following the wires that were attached to the harnesses up, he had to squint past the spotlights, but he could clearly see four outlines. Ah, Cohen’s disciples were here also.   
  
“Well…?” Cohen grinned, finally letting go of his arm and gesturing around him.”What do you think?”   
  
He thought he was completely _insane_.   
  
“It looks wonderful,” he replied, glancing at Cohen’s feet as a rabbit hopped past them, quickly scampering off down stairs. Steinman raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought Ryan didn’t allow animals down here?”   
  
Cohen looked at his fingernails in disinterest. “Didn’t he?” He mused, giving a little shrug. “Must of slipped my mind…”   
  
“How did you get it?”   
  
“An artist never reveals his secrets,” Sander winked at him.   
  
Steinman only blinked back at him.   
  
He must of asked Fontaine. That was the only person who could’ve and would’ve gotten the animals down here. He brought Ava’s famed carousel down here after all. As well as the casted model of the ‘Thinker’ in Rapture’s central computing. It was a well known not spoken about secret. Ryan was going on about all this smuggling being bad for Rapture and Steinman believed that everyone in Rapture was using it.   
  
Even Cohen, who had spoken publicly about being close to Ryan, but if people wanted something they would get it. Cohen certainly would. No one said ‘no’ to Sander Cohen. Not even Andrew Ryan.   
  
“What are the harnesses for?”   
  
“Damage control,” Cohen shrugged. “I can’t have my art being ruined by people’s incompetence. If someone steps out of line…” he let a ghost of a smile flicker across his face. “Then young Fitzpatrick will dissuade them from doing it again,” the smile slipped off his face to show he was dead serious. “By shooting 20 volts through them.”   
  
Steinman raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickered up to the four shadows again. They were still there, still watching the two of them. He was surprised they were doing this, apparently you really could get anyone to do anything. If the price was right.

* * *

  
“I don’t like this, Bill,” Em mumbled, carrying her toolbox. “It just seems weird. What was Big Kate doing here in the first place?”   
  
Bill and Emilie were walking through Dionysus Park, the place was littered with the aftermath of the party that had been thrown last night by Ava. Just the pieces of forgotten party favours, masks, hats and broken glass was enough of a hint towards the intensity of the party. Or the craziness of it. Em didn’t see the appeal in parties like this. She thought they were all trying a bit too hard.   
  
Bill sighed, giving a little shrug as they walked past the sculpture section of the park. It had once been one of the common rooms. A place that the partiers who were tired could come and relax in. Now it was a show house for Lamb’s little art show. Ryan hated the work her followers did, you could see it on his face whenever it was mentioned or when he happened to see the work. He couldn’t do anything about it, though. No sensor in Rapture after all, it was the same reason he was losing the public speaking with Lamb. Whilst it was funny to watch, she did have to wonder just how far Lamb could push him before he moved to more… radical ideas.   
  
“We have to watch everythin’ in this place,” Bill sighed, walking them through another door. “Can’t risk anywhere flooding. Even if it’s Lamb’s crazy art show,” he paused a second, eyes flickering to Em. “And we won’t say a thing to Ryan about it.”   
  
Em raised an eyebrow. “Surly he should know about a leak in his city?”   
  
Bill bit his lip, glancing around for a second, before he leaned closer to Em so he could whisper to her. He was nervous, that much was certain. Scared even. Of what? Of what he was about to tell her or of Ryan finding out? A lot of people recently had become scared of Ryan. They used to respect him, now they spoke in fear about him.   
  
“Listen, between you and me,” Bill licked his lips nervously. “I don’t think Andrew Ryan would be too upset if this place got drowned.”   
  
“I don’t think he would either,” she shrugged. “Why are you so nervous about this? Everyone knows that Ryan hates Lamb. Of course he wouldn’t be upset.”   
  
“I also don’t think he’d be too put off doing it himself.”   
  
Em stared at him, her mouth agape. He had to be lying. Not liking someone and being political adversaries was one thing, but what Bill was suggesting… that was murder. Outright murder, you couldn’t paint that as anything but murder. Ryan wouldn’t do that, surly? She knew he liked to win, but that was taking it a bit far.   
  
“You can’t be serious…” she whispered. “We came down here to escape a…”   
  
She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to say the word that had came to her head, because it was true. They’d came to Rapture to escape all the arguments and fighting that were brewing topside. She came down here no questions asked as the memory of the bomb lingered in her mind.   
  
“I know,” Bill rubbed at his chin, he looked like he was thinking. “I don’t think he’d do anything…” he mumbled. “But I don’t want to tempt fate. He’s been awful… testy this past few months. Fontaine’s giving him a headache,” his eyes flickered to her, studying and almost looking a little judgmental. “You ain’t seen anything have ya’ luv?”   
  
“No,” she shook her head. “If Fontaine’s doing anything… I haven’t seen it,” she shrugged a little. “Besides, do you really think he’d trust me? I work too close to Ryan.”   
  
Bill sighed nodding and they began walking again. Em was grateful she was a convincing liar, she was having to do it more often than she liked. She was having to lie to her friends too and she hated doing that. She liked Bill, but he was loyal to Ryan, loyal without a fault, like Reggie was to Fontaine. She liked both men, she trusted them until it came to anything to do with the boss. She knew where their loyalties lied.   
  
“Here we are then,” he gestured to a bunch of pipes, they really were a mess. She could see why Big Kate had been concerned.  
  
The pipes themselves seemed strong enough, but if one party goer was a touch too clumsy, if someone tripped and smacked this section? This whole place would be underwater. They could probably drain it out, but in doing so would chuck the people out too. Either way, anyone caught in this place would be dead. The pressure locks would seal in every sorry soul trapped in this place and they’d drown. It would protect the rest of the city, sure, but it wouldn’t even give the people trapped in this place a chance to escape.   
  
“I’m not sure how we’re going to fix this,” she mumbled, running her fingers along the pipes to find the faultiest part. “It’s a mess, Bill.”   
  
“You’re right about that,” he took a closer look. “The pipes I’m not too worried about, just reinforce ‘em, should be good… it’s the pressure locks. Big Kate said they were faulty.”  
  
“I had a look while I was waiting on you and she’s not wrong,” Em frowned. “If this place went underwater they’d all seal. All of them. The place would be flooded in a matter of minutes, we can only keep so much water out. It leak underneath.”   
  
“I don’t like it, Ms Em,” he sighed, rubbing at his neck. “We’re gonna have to tell Ryan… we need the proper stuff.”  
  
“He’ll never sign for it,” she mumbled. “He’ll say that since the Park is Lamb’s and Ava’s they should pay for it. You know he’ll come up with some excuse.”   
  
“Not really an excuse…” Bill shrugged. “He is right. It’s their place, they should pay for it.”  
  
“And if they can’t afford it?” Em raised an eyebrow at him. “You really want all these people’s deaths on your conscious? Because I sure don’t.”   
  
They stood in silence. They were stuck, there were no options for them. Ryan wouldn’t allow it, the others probably couldn’t afford it and at the end of the day the only people who’d be in trouble… were the ones that had nothing to do with the freud in the first place. The little people, the normal everyday folk. Wasn’t that always the case? The little people always suffered. It was the everyday people who were just trying to get by that got hurt.   
  
A flicker of movement caught her attention and she looked over Bill’s shoulder frowning.   
  
It was Stanley Poole. What was he doing here? Why was he with Lamb? Shouldn’t he be writing up another of his idiotic pieces. Jesus she was starting to sound like Cohen. Still, why was he here? It made no sense.   
  
“You need something, Poole?”   
  
Bill turned around and Stanley awkwardly shuffled inside. He offered them a nervous smile, pushing his hair back and licking his lips. He was dressed in a simple suit, his tie was crooked and his jacket was open, hanging loosely off his frame. It didn’t fit him at all, it looked about two or three sizes too big for him. Pinned onto the jacket’s lapel was a blue butterfly, just like the ones Em had seen around the Drop. Like the one Cameal had been wearing when they went dress shopping. Those blue butterflies were popping up more and more.   
  
“Oh no…” he laughed shaking his head. “Just taking a wander… you know..?” He gestured to the room they were in. “Seeing the sights.”  
  
“Isn’t much to see here but a bunch of pipes,” Bill frowned at him. “What are you doing here, Stanley?”   
  
Poole shrugged a little. “Doctor Lamb’s been awful kind to me… she’s listening to a frustrated novelist.”   
  
“Don’t you have to be a good writer to be considered a novelist?” Em raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.   
  
Stanley flushed a little, looking both embarrassed and angry. He wasn’t the greatest writer, everyone knew that. Stanley knew that and he wasn’t best liked either. There were reasons of course. He was a dirty rat for one. Nosing into other people’s business, something he had no business doing. Still did it. News man pay dirt and all that. Em wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to get the dirt on Lamb, that would certainly get him into Ryan’s good books. It sounded like the kind of pathetic bullshit Poole would try, just so he could get noticed.   
  
Stanley coughed into his hands and shrugged. “Ain’t it everyone’s personal opinion? Look I was just curious is all,” he took a few cautious steps towards them. “Why are two of Ryan’s big shots down here? Well… you’re not exactly Ryan’s big shot, are you Ms Lokken? You’re more Fontaine’s big shot…”   
  
She narrowed her eyes at him. This was why she didn’t like Poole. He tended to just find things out and you wouldn’t know how he did it. That was the reason no one liked him. You couldn’t trust him, he’d rat you out if it meant getting a good review for his work.  
  
“Why don’t you go back to your typewriter, Poole?” Bill suggested none too pleasantly. “Bet it’s getting lonely.”   
  
“What’s going on with the pipes?”  
  
“Never you mind,” Bill waved him away. “Get going.”   
  
He left this time, shuffling out of the room, keeping his head down and disappearing around the corner. Emilie and Bill waited a few minutes to make sure he had actually left. He tended to hang around to hear whatever would be spoken afterwards. Those were usually the things that people didn’t want sharing after all.   
  
“I hate him,” Em mumbled. “Doesn’t mind his own business.”  
  
“I know,” Bill sighed, turning back to the pipes. “But I guess it’s his job.”   
  
He was right about that, but it didn’t mean Em had to like it.   
  
Bill decided to call it a day. There was nothing they could do without funding to fix the damn pipes and Ryan wasn’t going to lift a finger. They’d had to go to Medical a few times to talk to Steinman about heating the pipes. He didn’t do it all the time and then the pipes would freeze and burst, leaving a bigger mess for them to clean up. They always told Steinman, Bill had even left an audio message to remind him. Em had spoken to Rosa about it, trusting her to pay attention more than Steinman, but they still had to be called out some times.   
  
She didn’t go out to many of those, she was an electrical engineer and mechanic for the most part. She knew little bits about plumbing, enough to help out, but not enough to deal with it by herself. That’s where Bill came into the picture. He was the best Plumber that Em had ever seen and he certainly had his work cut out. He was in charge of keeping all of Rapture’s plumbing going, keeping the pumps working, stop places from flooding. Keep the city standing and stop the leaks.   
  
He’d spoken to the Wales brothers about some of the design choices. Sure something may look pretty but it wasn’t much good when it didn’t function correctly. There’d been some big arguments about those. Daniel Wales was a bit of a hot head, compared to his brother Simon who was more meek and spoke softer. Simon, Em didn’t mind, but Daniel? They’d almost always gotten into fights. Both verbal and physical. It wasn’t proper to hit a lady? Daniel Wales didn’t seem to care.   
  
She’d heard recently that the two bothers had fallen on hard times. Simon was filled with guilt whenever Rapture leaked, Daniel would snap at him not to, saying something like ‘crying about it was only going to add to the moisture’, arguing that ‘who’s to say it’s our design’? Everything. Everything said it was their design that was causing Rapture to leak. Sure the city looked impressive, but there was rust in some parts on the inside and she’d even spotted coral growing in the lower parts of Rapture. So yes, it was their design, but you better be ready to dodge a punch thrown in your direction if you ever said so. Or even an empty and sometimes not empty bottle of whisky.   
  
“I might have to talk to Wales about it,” Bill muttered.  
  
“You might want to do that alone,” Em shrugged. “You know me and Daniel don’t get along.”   
  
Bill laughed softly. “Yeah, don’t I just…” he shook his head, glancing at her. “Listen, luv… I know it’s not my place to say anything but… are ya being careful? Around Fontaine I mean?”   
  
“Fontaine?” Em squinted at him. “What do you mean, ‘be careful’, he’s not going to kill me, Bill.”  
  
At least he wasn’t going to kill her at the moment. He wasn’t going to murder her yet, probably hadn’t worked out the best way to dispose of her and she’d been good. She hadn’t caused any issues. She kept her head down and did her work, no questions asked. He liked that.   
  
“Just.. be careful,” he frowned at her. “He’s a crook.”   
  
Like she didn’t know that? The cigarettes in her pocket were evidence of her knowledge. She was certain everyone in Rapture knew that he was a criminal, but there wasn’t any evidence so Ryan couldn’t do anything. She still wasn’t certain she believed all the rumours, but she wasn’t desperate to find out the definite answer.   
  
Emilie patted his back softly and offered a comforting smile. She wasn’t going to do anything stupid or at least, nothing that was any more stupid than what she’d already done.   
  
“Don’t worry about me, Bill,” she offered a smile. “I can handle myself.”   
  
It tasted like a lie even as she said it. He didn’t seem to believe her either or at least he didn’t believe she could handle herself against Fontaine. She was starting to think he was right. Fontaine moved in too many directions for her to keep track of. You’d think he was going to do one thing and would end up doing something completely different.   
  
At the end of the day, Fontaine was dangerous. That was the be all and end all of it.

* * *

  
O’Riley stared at the commotion that was going on. He didn’t know if he should step in or not, because the little boy that was being yelled at looked two seconds away from crying.   
  
Henderson had found the boy trying to enter the fisheries, he’d dragged him away and yelled at the kid. He was still yelling at him because the boy wouldn’t leave. He was being insistent. Hell, the little tyke was saying he was here to see Fontaine, but Henderson wasn’t having it.   
  
He was being loud about it, but the boy was still insisting that he was here to see Fontaine. He was a stubborn little bastard that was for sure. He kept going on about this watch and then spoke about talking to Fontaine in his office or something. That was the final straw for Henderson apparently.   
  
O’Riley couldn’t stop him, he’d already raised his hand and backhanded the boy across the face. The kid went flying, smacking the floor hard. He had yelled and curled in on himself, but he didn’t cry. Almost like he didn’t really feel the hit itself, he was just curling up to protect himself from more hits.   
  
Henderson looked like he was considering it, but before he could make a move to hit the boy again and yell at him another voice cut through the commotion.   
  
“The hell do you think you’re doin’?!”   
  
Everything froze. Hell, it even felt like the water stopped moving for a moment there. O’Riley stared as Fontaine came over to Henderson and the kid.   
  
Henderson tried explaining what had happened, but Fontaine didn’t want to hear it. He looked furious. He looked like he was going to murder Henderson right then and there, security cameras be damned.   
  
“Kid, come here.”   
  
The boy was up on his feet, quickly running to hide behind Fontaine, peeping out behind his legs and stared as Henderson went a deathly shade of white. O’Riley understood why, because what the hell was going on? Was the kid not lying after all and he did know Fontaine? Sure looked like it.   
  
Fontaine was almost screaming at Henderson, then he yelled for Reggie and the bruiser took Henderson inside, no doubt round the back of the Fisheries. That’s where they handled most of this business. If a guy stepped out of line, if they made a mistake, there was only one way Fontaine dealt with that and he dealt with it quickly. No one was going to rat him out and the kid wouldn’t understand the implications.   
  
O’Riley kept his head down, listening to the conversation as he moved more boxes.   
  
“The hell you doing here kid?”   
  
“I got him, Mister Fontaine!” The kid sounded excited. “I slugged him one, just like you said!”  
  
“Yeah?” Fontaine sounded amused. O’Riley risked a glance and had to do a double take because Fontaine was smiling at the kid. Hell, he looked amused. “You got him good did ya?” Fontaine asked, reaching for the kids hand to look over his knuckles. “You put some ice on those, ya hear me?”  
  
“Yes, Mister Fontaine!” The boy beamed at him. The kid looked proud of himself. “I used the watch like you said. He started crying… I didn’t even hit him that hard.”   
  
“Huh. All bark and no bite,” Fontaine smirked. “A lot of ‘em are like that. Not bad kid. Least ya can slug it out,” he reached forward and ruffled the kid’s hair. The little boy was giggling looking thrilled at having gotten some approval from Fontaine of all people. “Get going back to yer roost,” Fontaine waved him away, turning on his heel to leave, but the boy stopped him. He’d grabbed his hand before quickly letting go, shuffling a little awkwardly.   
  
He wasn’t the only one. Fontaine looked awkward as hell. O’Riley didn’t imagine him mixing with kids at all, he didn’t understand where he met this one. The boy had an accent to him, he sounded like that Norsky engineer. O’Riley thought he’d seen the kid around Pauper’s Drop, he was one of the poor ones, so how did he know Fontaine? Couldn’t be the Norsky’s kid, could he? That was a crazy idea.   
  
“What?” Fontaine snapped a little, his eyes narrowed. “I’m busy kid.”   
  
“I know…” the boy sighed, his blonde curls tumbled into his face as he looked at the floor. “I just… I wanted to ask if you could.. no, it’s stupid.”   
  
Fontaine sighed, long and suffering. “What is it? You ain’t gonna go away until you tell me are you?”   
  
“Well.. there was this kid, but I… I thought we were friends and then when the big kid showed up he started picking on me too and-.”   
  
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Fontaine rubbed his eyes, he glanced around a second before kneeling to the kid’s height, placing his hand on his shoulder. “You listen to me and you listen good. Okay? You only need four rules to get by in this life,” he held his hand up, counting off four on his fingers. “I’ll teach ‘em ya’ and maybe they’ll save ya’ life. But this is the last thing I’m doing, you get me? Don’t make this,” he gestured between them. “A habit.” T  
  
he boy looked sad, looking at his feet and nodding his head. “I know, Mister Fontaine…” he said miserably. “It’s just…” he looked up at him with big pleading brown eyes. “You’re the only one who understands….”   
  
Fontaine frowned at him. “Don’t be trying my own tricks against me, Kid,” he pointed at him. “Cut it out with the eyes.”   
  
“It’s not a trick!”  
  
“Bullshit,” he poked him in the chest. “If you’s anything like me, ya’ little bastard, that right there is grade ‘A’ flim flam,” he pointed at his big brown eyes. “So knock it off.”   
  
The kid looked at the floor miserably again. “But I’m not trying to trick you… I just…. I like you Mister Fontaine and you’re the only one who understands! Uncle Kyburz and Uncle Daniel would’ve told me to run away and play somewhere else, my Mama doesn’t want me to get hurt, but you told me how to solve the problem,” he looked up at him and beamed. “And I solved it! Because of you!”   
  
O’Riley was shocked. This kid was looking at Fontaine like he just gave him the moon or the sun. He idolised this man, this criminal who didn’t even blink when he killed someone. This innocent little boy believed that Fontaine was… somehow a saint. A hero. By the sounds of what Fontaine had taught him, he sorta was. He’d helped the boy deal with a bully by the sounds of things and now the child was back, looking for him to show him he’d done it. So that Fontaine would be proud of him.   
  
He understood then. The kid didn’t just idolise Fontaine, he didn’t just hero worship him. He looked at him… he looked at him like he was…   
  
O’Riley frowned. The idea made him sick. How could any kid, a little boy or otherwise look at Fontaine like that? He didn’t care how much Fontaine had helped him. It didn’t make any sense, especially when O’Riley knew what Fontaine was, knew what he did. A man like Fontaine did not deserve that kind of adoration or… dare he say it, love? No, he didn’t deserve it.   
  
O’Riley heard Fontaine sigh, he glanced over noticing that Fontaine was now standing up, brushing himself down.   
  
“Alright kid,” he straightened out his suit, nodding towards the exit of the fisheries. “First rule, you better listen ‘cause I ain’t repeatin’ myself,” he eyed him and the boy nodded his head. “Okay, first rule; never trust anyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves. You trust someone in this town, ya may as well already lay down in ya grave, because they’ll stab you in the back the moment it suits ‘em.”   
  
He lost sight of them as they walked around the corner. He heard the door open and close and then he felt the presence of Peach standing next to him.   
  
“That was…”  
  
“Weird?” O’Riley raised an eyebrow at the other who nodded his head.   
  
Yeah it was weird. It was the weirdest thing that had happened down here, period.   
  
So now there was a new rule. Don’t yell at the kid, that much was obvious and tomorrow Henderson would be found floating face down in the water. All because he yelled at a kid and hit him. O’Riley wasn’t too upset about that, for once, he agreed with Fontaine. He hoped that this would be the only time.

* * *

  
_O’Riley,_   
  
_Things keep getting stranger:_   
  
_So… not only do we have to be careful of upsetting Fontaine but now we gotta watch our step with a kid too._   
  
_One of the guys snapped at him, the next minute? Fontaine is coming down on him like he’s got the power of god behind him. I don’t know what to make of it… afterwards the kid went trotting off with Fontaine all smiles. Fontaine was even talking to the kid about some rules… I don’t know, like rules Fontaine lives by? Don’t understand it myself._   
  
_One thing we all agreed on… that has to be the weirdest thing to happen at the docks._


	21. So This is Love

_Opal Delores,_   
  
_Today’s the day:_   
  
_It’s today. Today’s the big day! Oh… my dress it’s a beautiful slim fitting white dress with lace and little white beads… but there’s the tradition isn’t there? Something old and all that… Well something old is my very first hair pin… something new is the lace gloves my sister bought me.. something borrowed.. a lovely white ribbon from Em and something blue… a little forget me not. Daniel has a forget me not on his lapel. They’re the flowers for us.. we had our first date sitting amongst the forget me nots… and I hope to never forget this day._

* * *

  
The ceremony had been beautiful. Opal had looked stunning in her dress, Daniel had the biggest smile on his face for the whole thing. It never left, even when he got a little teary when they read out their vows. Bill had married them, Clayton had been the ring bearer. His curls had been straightened just a little and he had his suit on, shoes polished so you could see your face reflected back in them.   
  
Now, watching him run around Arcadia with Elaine and Bill’s two year old daughter, Em wondered why she bothered. His shoes were packed in mud and his knees held grass stains.   
  
Despite all this, Em couldn’t take the smile off her face. Most of the guests were dancing, even though the wedding was held in Arcadia, people didn’t care. There were a few people slipping on the grass, but everyone was too happy to really pay attention to it. Daniel and Opal hadn’t stopped swaying quietly for at least three songs, almost like they’d never get tired. The meal later would be held at the Kashmir, for now, they were all dancing and celebrating together.   
  
Kelly had managed to get a date and was dancing with him, Sarah and Cammie were constantly twirling each other as they danced. It was all so perfect. Rosa was around the edge taking photos of the celebration, she’d taken a few of Em who’d smiled brightly at the camera. Even though she was older, Em felt so much younger. All because she smiled more.   
  
Kyburz’s speech had been lovely, Rosa’s had followed shortly after, she’d even gave her sister away. Rosa was the only one left in their family after all. It was what Opal had wanted and Rosa had been thrilled.   
  
“Hi…”   
  
Em looked up at the timid greeting, finding Kyburz standing in front of her, his suit jacket was open and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked nervous to be standing in front of her. They hadn’t spoken since falling out, she could understand him being nervous. She was nervous too.   
  
He gestured with his hand to the seat next to her at the table. “Can I sit?”   
  
She nodded and he sat down. For a few moments they didn’t say anything. Maybe they couldn’t find the right words or they were too prideful to admit they’d been wrong, who knows. For a moment it was nothing but awkward silence. Then they both tried to apologise at the same time, which was followed by awkward laughter and silence once more.   
  
She watched Clayton jump the little stream and then help little Sophie across the stream, Bill was standing nearby watching the two children play. In the light Clayton’s watch flashed, before he covered it up with his sleeve. She still didn’t know where he’d gotten it, given it’s condition she assumed he’d found it on the street. When she asked him he said it was given to him, but he wouldn’t say who. It was a secret was his reasoning, but he said it was no one dangerous and that she knew them. That did little to calm her nerves, but she assumed he’d tell her when he was ready. She offered to get it fixed, but he said no. He liked it battered, it was scarred and damaged, it had stories behind it.   
  
“It was a lovely wedding…” Kyburz said softly and she nodded, offering a little smile of her own.   
  
“It was. Opal looks beautiful,” she turned to Kyburz with a serious face. “I’m sorry for what I said… and for punching you,” she flushed a little out of embarrassment for that. “I lost my temper and said some things.. I didn’t mean and I’m sorry.”   
  
“I’m sorry for pushing you when you asked me not to,” he rubbed at his chin. “You’ve got a good right hook,” he cracked a smile at her. “It hurt for a good few days… but yeah, I’m sorry too.”  
  
“So… we’re okay?” She asked softly. “Because I hate not talking to you Kyburz…”   
  
He smiled at her crookedly. “Was that Em speak for, ‘I missed you, Kyburz’?”   
  
Sighing she nodded her head, still a smile was on her face. “Yeah… I.. you’re right, about me. I need to get over certain things, but I can’t just do that over night. It’s gonna take time.”   
  
“I understand that,” he nodded, leaning away from the table a little. “But can I say you look beautiful without you hitting me?”   
  
Emilie flushed again at being reminded of her outburst. She hadn’t meant to hit him at all, she’d just struck out. She’d been so angry and then she’d worried for a good few days about hurting Clayton if she flew off the handle. Kelly completely abolished those ideas and she’d since been trying to get a better handle of herself. The withdrawal of not having any alcohol and the shakes had finally stopped. After getting over that hang up and her fears she’d been.. happier. Calmer. Less volatile.   
  
“I’m not going to hit you, Kyburz…” she looked ashamed. “I really am sorry about that. I.. I was an idiot, no I was a bitch.”  
  
“I think we were both in the wrong,” he shrugged a little. “But… we’re friends right?”   
  
Em smiled. “Yeah, we’re friends.”  
  
“Thank god…” he breathed, letting his shoulders relax and sitting back. “Otherwise I’d have to go back over there with Pablo. I swear he’s only come here for the food or… trying to get Kelly in bed with him.”   
  
Emilie looked amused at the idea. “I don’t think even Kelly would sleep with him. She has… some standards…” a frown crossed her face. “Then again, she’s been sleeping with Fontaine, so maybe she doesn’t.”  
  
“Fontaine?” Kyburz snarled the name out and Em was taken aback. She’d never heard that kind of tone from Kyburz. There was nothing but loathing and hatred in his tone. He hated Fontaine, that much was obvious and Kyburz did not try to hide it.   
  
Her mind drifted back to the evening they’d fallen out. He’d mentioned that Fontaine had been right, but right about what? It made no sense, there was nothing for Fontaine to be right about. She didn’t understand what had happened and she didn’t think now was the best time to ask. Kyburz was a private person at best and a damn secretive one at worst. It was paranoia, it got to him from time to time and when it hit, it hit him bad.   
  
“I can’t believe it,” he continued. “Why would she settle with a bastard like him?”  
  
“I… don’t know,” she shrugged. “Guess she just likes to live dangerously?”   
  
“No wonder you two are friends…” he glanced at her, smiling fondly. “You always do tend to go for the more dangerous options. No matter where you work,” he looked down at his hands, running his fingers over the rough surface. “Jesus, even when I worry about you… off you go… right to the dangerous option,” he looked up at her and grinned. “I even heard you’ve been getting into spats with Daniel Wales.”  
  
“Ugh. I’m actually enjoying myself here,” she gestured around them. “Don’t mention his name. I didn’t think I could hate someone more than I hated Fontaine… Daniel Wales proved me wrong. I can’t stand him.”  
  
“He isn’t the easiest person to get along with,” Kyburz nodded in agreement.   
  
They were quiet again, but it wasn’t awkward like before. It was the kind of silence you could have between friends. Where you didn’t say anything, but you felt comfortable with each other. It wasn’t because you had a lack of anything to say, but simply because you didn’t need to say anything.   
  
The song changed again, Daniel and Opal were still slow dancing, the children were now weaving their way around the adults and Kelly had disappeared with her date. It was all so normal and peaceful, for a few hours Em could forget about Fontaine and Ryan. About the impending political war that was brewing between Ryan and Lamb. It was just her, her friends and her son. She wouldn’t have it any other way.   
  
Kyburz stood up, brushing his suit down and held his hand out to her. Em raised an eyebrow, looking at his hand, before looking back at his face.  
  
He shrugged at her. “I know I’m not the best dancer… but I think I can manage this..”   
  
“Uh huh… we’ll see,” she grinned at him. “I’ll see how bruised my feet are afterwards.”  
  
He was better at this type of dancing than the quicker stuff. Kyburz didn’t stand on her feet once, they swayed elegantly around the room, though there were moments when he stuttered and almost tripped. She’d laugh whenever he’d stumble, try and help him to steady himself. She’d try to teach some of her own moves or some of her own tips, but it didn’t do much. Still at the end they were laughing and making jokes. It was like old times and the smile never left her face. It was nice to laugh again.   
  
Of course she was still worried about the world outside this moment. Fontaine and Ryan, Lamb was also an issue now, but it didn’t matter. She could forget for a few peaceful hours. She could be happy and carefree, enjoying her time with her friends. It was all she’d ever wanted really. It had taken her while, but she started to realise that this was the only thing that truly mattered. Not trying to be ahead of everyone else, not being the big fish in the pond, but this. Having fun with her friends and family and knowing they were all safe and happy also.   
  
For a few brief hours, life would be perfect. That was all that mattered.

* * *

  
“The kid’s becomin’ an issue,” Fontaine was pacing up and down in front of Sinclair. He couldn’t sit still, he was fidgety, nothing like himself at all. Running a hand over his head, he glanced to take in Sinclair’s unimpressed look. “He has to go.”   
  
“I am not gettin involved in-.”  
  
“I ain’t suggesting murdering the little bastard!” Frank snapped. “You’re right, his Ma would flip.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up…” Sinclair drawled.   
  
He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. Fontaine didn’t care if Sinclair thought he was crazy, Clayton had to go. He was getting too close. Not that he was close to figuring out Fontaine’s grand plan, in truth Frank didn’t have one yet, but he was getting too close emotionally. Now he was actively seeking Fontaine out and he even humoured the kid.   
  
The first time he helped him out, he swore to himself that this would be the last time. That he’d done it once, it would never happen again. Then the kid came round the docks looking for him and when Frank saw Henderson hit him… It was all too familiar. He’d been a victim to that kind of abuse when he was around Clayton’s age. He’d been the victim of worse stuff too.   
  
Absently Fontaine ran his fingers over his knuckles. They were the only part of his hands that weren’t smooth. Scarred and rough from years of rulers being smacked edge end across much smaller hands. Cutting and re-cutting marks into his skin and half the time it wasn’t even his fault. Apparently he couldn’t tell the truth convincingly, but when he lied… oh that he seemed to be gifted in. What was it that his mother had said? If you never have to work a day in your life but you reap all the rewards than you have truly unlocked the secret to living.   
  
He felt a smile flicker across his face when he remembered her. Never his actual mother, oh no that bitch didn’t give a damn about him, but her… the actress who’d given him a chance and her time… like Em had given Clayton her’s.   
  
Fontaine shook his head, teeth gritted and trying not to think about the similarities too much. That was the biggest problem. The similarities between himself and Clayton. The boy was almost a shadow of his former self. The big brown eyes, so filled with innocent and childlike hope, like Frank’s had once been until reality came crashing down around him.   
  
_“You killed her and sent my world crashing down around me! Only fair I do the same to you!”_   
  
He’d been very much a showman when he was younger.  
  
 _“The only thing you love is yaself! You only care ‘bout your life!”_   
  
A little melodramatic.   
  
_“So to destroy your world, I guess, it’s your life I’m gonna have to take!”_   
  
He’d blame it on his time working behind the stage. He’d blame it on all the times he’d sat watching the actors work the crowd, make those idiots believe. The stage was always so much more dramatic than real life, but when he was younger they’d slightly blurred between the lines. He’d had hope back then.   
  
_“You killed her and sent my world crashing down around me!”_   
  
You tended to loose hope when it was taken away from you. Especially if it was taken away from you violently. Ripped out of your hands and torn to shreds in a simple blink of an eye. Then the rest of the world treats you like trash and the reality finally sinks in that no one cares about you. No one will do anything for you, no one was there to look after you, so you had to look after yourself and if that meant others suffering? So be it.   
  
You’d suffered before that, it was their turn to give it a try and maybe they’d finally understand what it was like to be left with nothing.   
  
“He’s looking for me now,” Fontaine explained, leaning on the back of the chair in Sinclair’s office. “He goes out of his way to find me.”   
  
“Then tell him to go away.”   
  
Frank snorted. “You ain’t been ‘round kids much have you? Tellin’ them to go away is like sayin’ you want their undivided attention.”   
  
Sinclair rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I make a habit of interactin’ with children? I spoke to the boy once,” he fished out a cigarette from his packet. “What are you really here for, Frank? This is the second time you’ve come complainin’ about the kid. What’s the real issue?”   
  
The real issue was Frank was getting too close to the kid. He was starting to… give a damn about him. Find him less annoying than the rest of humanity. Worse yet, he was becoming fond of him. Fondness evolved to care, care evolved to love or Fontaine’s interpretation of the emotion. There was too much at stake here for him to start caring about some snot nosed brat and in reality the only reason he cared was the fact Clayton held a resemblance to him.   
  
He’d tried to deny it at first. He’d tried desperately to ignore the similarities, but there were just so many that it was hard to ignore. Not only did the kid look like he had, but the situation had been the same. Clayton had been adopted and taken in, sure Frank hadn’t been adopted but he found someone that cared about him like a son. Same thing here and there were moment, just moments, where Clayton would act like he would. They were few and far between, but the boy could be cold when he wanted to be. Living on the streets by yourself tended to do that. Couldn’t afford to let anyone close, because in that world it was either them or you.   
  
The main issue, if Frank was going to pinpoint it exactly to a particular thing, was the fact that Clayton… his entire life so far was a ‘what could have been’ moment for Frank. He had the nice happy family life, that a much younger Fontaine had dreamed about having again. It was safe to say he’d rather given up on such a stupid and useless notion. What good was family anyway? His family had thrown him away, a little blonde haired boy, unwanted and unloved by the very people who’d brought him into this world. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong at that point in time, he was innocent. Apparently though, according to his father at least and what he remembered of his birth mother, existing was a big enough crime to require punishment. Then they decided that he wasn’t even worth their time with that, so they threw him away.   
  
Frank’s life had meant nothing to them and subsequently in later life, his existence meant nothing to society either. Well, if his life was so unimportant to them, then he didn’t see why he should give a damn about anyone else.   
  
Maybe that made him bitter and spiteful. Maybe in reality he was just sad and couldn’t get over a traumatic event in his life, but reality was also that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed holding that kind of power over people and lording it in their faces. Of showing that he didn’t care about them. That their existence, circumstance and family meant _nothing_ to him. It was what everyone else in his life had directed at him as a child, it was obvious now as an adult it was his turn. He could see why people did it. In a sick and twisted way… that kind of power was addictive and once you got a taste of it… well, it was very hard to quit.  
  
Everything was moving along nicely, he didn’t have a care in the world and then Clayton came along.   
  
“Can’t you just appreciate that things are difficult right now?” He hissed.   
  
“No, because I have far more important things to deal with,” Sinclair replied, not at all unkindly. “Lamb’s causing more problems by the day. Hell I’ve heard she’s squeezed her way into Hephestus now.”   
  
Fontaine was begrudgingly impressed by that. Hephestus was the heart of Ryan Industries, the life blood of Rapture if you will, it was hard to get people in there. He had of course. Fontaine had about three guys working for Ryan that secretly also worked for him and then there was Em who was not so secret. She didn’t spill secrets though, he was beginning to learn that now. Whenever he asked her something, she’d only shrug at him and make some half assed excuse, before moving on with her day.   
  
“Ryan ain’t gonna like that…” Fontaine mused. “Still, whilst he’s dealing with her… other things may sweep under the radar…”  
  
Sinclair smiled at that. “When can I be expecting my next box of cigarets?"   
  
“I dunno, Sinclair…” Frank narrowed his eyes at him. “When can I expect new test subjects?”   
  
“I sent you two yesterday.”   
  
He waved him off. “Tenenbaum and Suchong already worked their way through those,” he grimaced slightly and shuddered. “Working on a new Plasmid… teleport…”   
  
Sinclair frowned, but it soon morphed into a grimace as he probably worked out what might have happened. “I take it they… didn’t teleport?”   
  
“Oh no they did,” Frank shuddered again. “Just… not all of them to.. the same place- anyway,” he placed a file in front of Sinclair.   
  
He didn’t want to think about the failed teleport experiments. The room had been a mess, blood had been dripping down from the ceiling as well as other body parts. The worst part were the ones that had managed to teleport… at least parts of themselves. Random body parts dropping out of thin air in the corridors. It might’ve been funny if it wasn’t so morbid. Frank had a morbid sense of humour but this was pushing it. He’d thrown a fit at Suchong and Tenenbaum, these were the type of mistakes he was trying to avoid.   
  
Limey had been right about one thing, as time had gone on, Frank had become more accustomed to the gore. He’d never been a squeamish type, but the things those Doctors were doing… well, just remembering the special projects unit still made him feel nauseous. Other things though, watching a scalpel cut or someone burn up from too much incinerate, it didn’t bother him anymore. Not like it used to. He’d become… used to the violence and gore. She said it was a good thing and he would agree with her. What was the point in ordering these things if you couldn’t look at the mistakes?   
  
Sometimes though, in quiet moments at home by himself, if he’d drank too much and no one was there to entertain him, he’d start thinking.   
  
Thinking had always been a dangerous thing for Frank. He thought too much he’d remember the day his old man dumped him at that orphanage. If it wasn’t that event it would be working back stage and the murder of the actress who’d given him her time. Now, it was starting to become the experiments. The screaming and pleading, it fell on deaf ears to him, but in the quiet moments at night it would rise up. He’d drown it out with alcohol or on bad nights he’d shoot up with the good stuff and if it was too much he’d disappear to Eve’s Garden and block it out with a woman’s company.   
  
He was taking the approach of out of sight, out of mind. He didn’t know how Suchong and Tenenbaum could stomach it sometimes, they seemed to enjoy it.   
  
_Maybe,_ Frank thought privately in the safety of his own mind, _I don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss_.   
  
“What’s this?” Sinclair reached for the file, flipping it open and his eyes lit up.   
  
Inside were new adverts for new plasmids and tonics. Ones that worked at least. No one would be exploding because of these ones. All safe and tested. As safe as plasmids were of course, that seemed to be a relative term. There were side effects, bad ones. Whenever someone questioned him about this, he’d shrugged it off. Everything had bad side effects. He didn’t know a single medical practice or treatment that didn’t.   
  
“These seem good,” Sinclair mused. “I’ll be able to double the advertisements. That teleport one sounds good too… once ya get it workin’ Chief.”   
  
“Tell me about it,” Fontaine rubbed at his face, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes a second. “If they can’t sort it out soon… I’ll tell ‘em to abandon it. Can’t risk too much bad publicity.”   
  
“Hm, bad publicity is an awful inconvenient thing,” Sinclair agreed, looking through the fresh advertisements. “Though I don’t suppose we’ll be worryin’ about that anymore, Chief… not the way these people are babbling about ADAM,” he smiled. “Why, some might say they’re _addicted_.”   
  
“And if they are?”   
  
“Then I’d say that’s the best bit of marketing I’ve seen down here in a while,” he smirked. “Get them hooked and scoop up the cash after. They won’t stop ‘cause they feel like they need more of it and you’ll get richer because they’ll never stop. I gotta say, it’s a real grifters ace.”   
  
Frank laughed at that, tilting his head back and laughing loudly at the ceiling. Oh if only Sinclair knew. Fontaine had something else planned for his grifters ace. He wasn’t too sure what that would be yet, but he was working on it. Frank had a mind to be in control of Rapture, though plenty of people already thought he was. He needed to buyout Ryan Industries, take control of the cities power, that was how you got complete control.   
  
If Frank could somehow get control of the heating and power of Rapture, he’d have the city in his pocket. Whoever controlled the light and warmth controlled the people and he liked that idea. There was just something nice about being in complete control, a comfort in knowing that no matter what they’d never betray him. Because they couldn’t.   
  
Suchong called it conditioning, Frank called it power and he liked having that kind of power. He’d never had it before in his life. Back topside Frank was a little fish, a simple con man who fixed games and watched poker matches, maybe a few real estate scams thrown in there. In Rapture? Oh, Frank was a king in Rapture and he loved it. No more dancing around and keeping his distance from mob bosses, because he was the mob boss.   
  
“Just you wait, Sinclair,” he grinned at the other man. “I’ll be lifting Rapture out of the old man’s pocket, no fuss, no muss.”

* * *

  
“Thank you for carrying him.”   
  
“You did so much dancing tonight I’m amazed you’re still standing.”   
  
Em laughed as Kyburz and herself got off the Atlantic Express. Kyburz was carrying Clayton, the little boy had fallen asleep on the journey back. His hand was clutched against his chest where the watch sat. Like he was keeping it safe even while he slept. It looked like it was the most important thing he owned, but Em still didn’t know where he got it. Kyburz had even asked him, but he’d shook his head saying it was a secret.   
  
This night was very reminiscent of the one where they fell out. Things were different this time though, for one Em felt a lot calmer, she wasn’t on edge. She believed that was because she hadn’t had to deal with Fontaine this evening. Anytime she had to deal with that man it always left her in a bad mood, like something leaving a bad taste in your mouth. It stayed with you and made everything else foul.   
  
It was cold in the drop tonight, but she didn’t feel it so much, her skin was still prickling from dancing and the party afterwards at the Kashmir. Daniel and Opal had been completely involved with each other for the entire evening, almost like they couldn’t believe they were finally together. Opal had tossed the bouquet at the end and Kelly had about rugby tackled one of the other girls out of the way so Cammie could catch it. Her and Sarah were talking about having a private ceremony and Em thought that was a lovely idea.   
  
They finally reached her floor, the elevator was still broke, but she didn’t complain this time. Kyburz and Em laughed and joked about some of the things that had been happening at work. Things that hadn’t been able to talk about because they weren’t talking. They danced around and avoided serious questions and conversations. Both of them were too much of a good mood to start talking about Persephone or heaven forbid Ryan and Fontaine’s big boy pissing contest. Though that was funny for now, Em had a feeling it was going to be less funny later.   
  
“It’s almost 1955,” Kyburz spoke as they walked up to her door. “Can’t believe it… time’s gone by so fast… so much has changed.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m on the fence on if it’s changed for the better,” she was able to open the lock this time. Em had actually taken time out to oil it and fix the door. “I think there’s owls in the bog.”   
  
Kyburz blinked. “What?”  
  
“Owls in the bog?” Em blinked back at him. “You don’t have that saying?”   
  
“Umm… it’s not one I can say I’ve heard before…”   
  
“Oh. Well,” she walked inside, tossing her purse onto the sofa, standing aside to let Kyburz in. “It means,” she continued. “That I think something mysterious is going on. It sounds better in Norwegian.”   
  
“I’m sure it does,” he offered a smile, walking over to Clayton’s curtained off bedroom, laying the little boy down on the bed and pulling the covers up to his chin.   
  
Emilie smiled softly at the scene, watching Kyburz turn on the nightlight she’d made Clayton. She couldn’t get him one, she didn’t earn enough, so she made him one instead. He was so terribly scared of the dark. He’s told her it reminded him of the air vents and she’d felt her heart break a little when he said that.   
  
She didn’t understand how anyone could give their child up. Not in the way they gave Clayton up. People who couldn’t afford to look after their children and dropped them off at an orphanage or something, it was a different matter. It was the people who decided they didn’t want a kid anymore that she didn’t understand. She’d only been Clayton’s mother for a year and a half and she’d do anything for him. He was her kid, she’d never abandon him, if things weren’t working out she’d look at what needed to be changed. So maybe she couldn’t have a new pair of shoes because the food bill had gone up a little, that was just something she’d live with and deal with later.   
  
Seeing him happy though, warn out and tired after a long day or running around, it was sweet. She adored him and never wanted to see him frown again.   
  
“You guys are still okay here?” Kyburz asked her, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I mean, I know the drop’s been getting worse… where I live isn’t much bigger but it’s safer.”   
  
“I feel like safe is a relative term down here,” Em mumbled, shaking her head with a smile. “But it’s okay. I’ve almost saved enough, I’ll be moving out by the end of next year.”   
  
“Thank god..” He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at her. “I always hate the idea of you two living here. It’s not safe.”   
  
As if to confirm to him that he was right, there was a loud bang several floors below and a scream. Soon shouting and yelling joined the screaming, followed by what sounded like a gun shot.   
  
Clayton jolted awake in bed, staring with wide eyes. He grabbed his teddy, an overstuffed and overloved bear that had an eye missing because Em still hadn’t gotten round to sewing it back on. Instead the teddy had an eyepatch and Clayton had dubbed it a pirate.   
  
“Mama?”   
  
“Shh.. shhh..” She was quickly at his side, pulling him close. “It’s okay.. it’s okay..”   
  
Kyburz walked up to the door, opening it slowly and cautiously he stepped out. More yelling and screaming could be heard, shouts both desperate and angry.   
  
“Somethings going on downstairs…”   
  
“Kyburz get back here!” Em hissed. “Whatever it is… Ryan’s security will deal with it.”   
  
“They don’t come down here,” he mumbled, pushing on outside.   
  
She wanted to hit him. Was he crazy? Whatever it was he shouldn’t be getting involved.   
  
The voices got louder, the screaming had stopped and now only yelling could be heard. It wouldn’t be the first time there was a domestic disturbance in the Drop. They happened a lot, but this seemed serious. Nothing like the other ones that happened every so often.   
  
Slowly Em, carrying Clayton who was clutching his teddy tightly to his chest, walked to the door. She pushed it open, walking to the edge of the railings, noticing that a lot of other people had done the same. They’d come out wearing their nightgowns, staring down at the centre of the building. There was a man there, he had his hands up pointing at Kyburz, O’Riley and a few others she didn’t recognise.   
  
“Mama…”   
  
“Shh… it’s okay,” she kissed the top of his head, holding him close and gently rocking him as she watched with baited breath.   
  
The man was yelling about something, she couldn’t fully tell what he was babbling on about. He’d break down into hysterical laughter at certain points and that was far more terrifying than the shouting. She wondered why no one had tackled him, but as soon as one of the men made a step towards him, electricity sparked out of the others fingers threateningly. He had plasmids and he was going to use them against anyone that tried to take him out.   
  
“I’m here to see Carly!”   
  
“She ain’t coming back with you,” Em heard one woman shout. “You hit her around for the last time!”   
  
“Go home, Thomas,” O’Riley barked at him. “She wants nothing to do with ya! Get going!”   
  
Em hid Clayton’s face against her neck so he wouldn’t see anything if things did escalate. Hopefully, this Thomas wouldn’t be so stupid. They’d actually back up and leave.   
  
One of the other men tried to grab him, but Thomas lifted up his hand and fired. It was as if time slowed down. The Deluxe was lit up in an electrical shade of blue, casting long shadows across the ground. The man who had tried to intervene with this madness was thrown across the room, hitting the far wall and falling limply to the floor. He didn’t get up again. There was stunned silence for a moment. No one could believe he’d done it.   
  
“Okay, okay,” Kyburz’s voice was distinct, he was approaching cautiously. Thomas held his hand up at Kyburz and the Aussie stopped in his tracks. “This doesn’t need to get any worse,” he reasoned. “Just back away. Leave her alone… go home.”   
  
“I.. he tried to grab me!”   
  
“Yeah and you just electrocuted him!” One of the other man yelled at him. “You just murdered him!”   
  
“And I’ll murder all of you!” He held his other hand up, alight with incinerate.   
  
People started screaming then, she could hear the sounds of running footsteps as a panic set in. There was only one way in and one way out of the Deluxe and Thomas was blocking it. Sure they could all make a run for it, but who’s to say they’d make it.   
  
“You don’t want to do that!”  
  
“Put your hand out right now!” O’Riley yelled, he had a gun in his hand. Em recalled he kept one, from his time in the war. He was pointing it directly at Thomas but his hand was shaking badly. “There are women and children here! Put your hand out right now, I mean it!”   
  
“Yeah?! Like you’ll be able to shoot me with that shaky shot!”   
  
He threw a ball of fire in their direction. They dodged out of the way, O’Riley hand’t flinched, but it seemed like he was frozen. Screams erupted around them, O’Riley was frozen in place, breathing harshly. It looked like he was sucking air through his teeth.   
  
Thomas waved his hands around, one sparking electricity, the other alight with fire. His eyes were wild, they even looked like they were glowing from the plasmids. He was yelling at them, but you couldn’t hear him over the screams. Clayton was crying in her arms and she moved away from the railing, crouching down on the floor. She ran her hands through his hair, desperately trying to calm him down. She wiped his tears, repeating words in Norwegian and English. She was jolted out of her attempts to comfort him by a gunshot. Screams and shouts echoed, Em was quick to carry Clayton inside their apartment. She ran to her room, pushing the door open and curling up on the bed, pulling him close.   
  
They could hear the yelling and shouting from outside, the sound of foot steps running around. Eventually she heard Kyburz calling for her. Emilie got up, running to the front door just as Kyburz pushed it open. He looked shellshocked, eyes wide and unseeing. He was able to focus on her, pushing past her a second and heading for one of her cases.   
  
“Pack up some clothes for you and Clayton, you’re leaving with me. We’ll lock the door and collect the rest of your stuff tomorrow after work.”   
  
“Kyburz what the hell happened?” She asked, holding Clayton close as the Aussie quickly packed some of Clayton’s clothes in to the case he’d picked to store their clothes in.  
  
“O’Riley shot Thomas,” Kyburz said, but he was madly grabbing clothes and stuffing them in the case. “He’s dead. He shot Thomas in the head.”   
  
“Kyburz, Kyburz stop.. slow down,” she grabbed his hands, still holding Clayton tightly in her arms. He’d stopped crying for now, curling up tightly, gripping her and his teddy. “We can’t just leave…”   
  
“Yes you can. You can come and live with me.”  
  
“I can’t,” she frowned. “My lessee, I’d still have to pay,” Emilie kissed the top of Clayton’s head. “I can’t leave. Sinclair will still charge me.”   
  
Kyburz screwed his face up. “But he can’t-.”   
  
“Stay the night,” Em interrupted him, placing a hand on his wrist. “If you’re worried about us this evening then stay the night. You can take the sofa, I think Clayton’s gonna be with me.”   
  
It wasn’t exactly the proper thing, but Em would admit she’d feel a little safer if Kyburz stayed this evening. She’d be okay after but just for tonight, she needed someone to stay with them. It was Clayton she was worried about, she didn’t want her son to be scared in his own home. It wasn’t fair to him. He should feel safe, that’s all she’d wanted when she first brought him home. She wanted him to feel safe.   
  
Thing was, that attack felt like it might only be the beginning. People had been worrying about side effects of Plasmids and Tonics. The side effects, as far as Em could see, was that they were accessible to anyone and everyone. You didn’t know who was buying it and what they were using it for. In this case they’d decided to use it as a weapon and how long would it be until others got the bright idea to do the same thing?  
  
Kyburz nodded, getting up and placing the case to the side. The adults set up his bed on the sofa, before Em disappeared into her bedroom with Clayton. They didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep. Clayton, thankfully, was able to fall asleep despite everything that had gone on.   
  
A little later into the night Ryan’s security had come round, asking what had happened and dragged the bodies away. Karlosky was thankfully the person to talk to Em and Kyburz, it didn’t sound like O’Riley was going to be charged with anything. It was self defence after all. The young man who’d tried to stop Thomas had died from the shock and the impact into the wall. Karlosky told them that it hadn’t been the first attack, a few more had been happening up and down the city. No one had died yet though, this was the first plasmid recorded death.   
  
“Don’t think it’s going to be the last,” the Russian added ominously. “Keep your head down.”   
  
Kyburz and Em did not sleep at all after that. Instead they sat on the sofa talking about what had happened, wrapped up in blankets while Clayton slept in Em’s bed.   
  
Both were speculating what Ryan would do about this. What security precautions he’d take now people could carrying weapons with them that didn’t take up pocket or bag space. This then lead to, just how far were people willing to go.   
  
In the end, there was only one thing they both could do and that was wait and see.

* * *

  
_Doctor Cicil Conners,_   
  
_The possibilities:_   
  
_Well now things are getting interesting. Fire and electricity at your finger tips! With more to come._   
  
_ADAM, the genetic implications are astounding! The things we could do… the things I could do. I managed to buy some from that Fontaine fellow. I quite frankly, would like to keep any contact with that man to a minimum. Not for exposure of course, no it’s more a case of… takes one to know one… and I know that the only way they could’ve gotten the genetics to work so well… would be if they had their own human test subjects. Perhaps he could direct me to his supplier, ha._


	22. Jitterbug Waltz

_Sofia Lamb,_   
  
_Protective instinct:_   
  
_In my time as a psychiatrist I have come across all manner of people. But the founders and top players of Rapture are by far some of the most selfish… and yet one of the very worst of them shares a moment of kindness towards a boy. Mister Fontaine would be what I would call a classic sociopath, with no regard as to what his actions may do to his fellow man and yet, even he is privy to what he would perceive as a weakness. I don’t know how the relationship between him and the boy formed, but it’s clear, no matter how he tries to hide it, that the child means something to him. There is a protective instinct towards the child and the child only._   
  
_One wonders… what similarities must he share with the boy to pull such a reaction from a cold and calculated manipulator._

* * *

  
  
Clayton and Fontaine had ended up sitting on one of the many benches of Rapture, overlooking Market Street from their vantage point of Hight Street. In the Corner sat Cohen’s new club, the other side held rich stores, most of them had something to do with art of some kind. It was probably why the batty artist picked this area in the first place.  
  
Clayton sat on the bench but not next to him. There was a gap between the two of them so you were almost unsure if they were together or not. Clayton was swinging his legs and licking his ice cream, that he'd bought. Frank was smoking a cigarette and it had been by pure coincidence that he and the kid met. Apparently Clayton had learnt his mother’s time table so knew when he could sneak out of the house and he was getting far more adventurous. He’d sneaked out to as far as Fort Frolic which was were Fontaine had found him. At first he was going to ignore the kid, but when he caught one mug eyeing Clayton in less than friendly ways, Frank instantly pulled the kid to his side. It had almost been second nature. That was worrying.  
  
They’d argued a little. Frank had threatened to tell his Ma that Clayton was sneaking out, the boy then threatened to tell his Ma about the lessons Frank was secretly teaching him. Apparently he was teaching him too well because that was a move he’d do.  
  
Now they sat together on High Street, getting a few odd looks, but a glare from Frank sent people packing. Still, Fontaine couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being watched. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, but whenever he glanced around he failed to see anybody there. It was getting on his nerves.  
  
“I got him good, didn’t I, Mister Fontaine?”  
  
Frank looked back at Clayton’s beaming smile. He was missing a few teeth, not from the fight, just he was getting older and loosing his baby teeth. Apparently he had a new wobbly one, which he did not hesitate to proudly show Frank. He’d congratulated him because in all honesty what was he meant to say to that?  
  
Now though, the boy was clearly talking about the fight he’d broken out into with another kid. Apparently this boy had been picking on Clayton for a while as well as a few of his new friends he was making. Even making friends with, god help him, Sofia Lamb’s kid, Eleanor. If Fontaine was being honest, the way Clayton spoke about her, it was clearly a school boy crush.  
  
“Sure did,” Frank drawled looking around at the scenery. He’d admit that Rapture was impressive. “Don’t think he’ll be bothering you any longer.”  
  
“It’s the monsters that scare me.”  
  
“Monsters?”  
  
“The bad people who use the super powers.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Yeah, kid had a point with that one. One of the side effects that Tenenbaum and Suchong had only just bothered to become aware of, was the mental deterioration. Sure, they’d told him it was addictive and Frank had been so pleased at the idea of selling something that people would constantly want. The problem was if they didn’t get their fix gradually they’d become less and less… cognitive. You needed more and more ADAM just to hold it back. It certainly had increased sales and initially Frank had been pleased. He became less pleased when these loopy plasmid heads starting taking pot shots at just about anyone.  
  
Shooting fire out of their finger tips wasn’t enough, oh no, these loonies wanted to carry guns around with them too. Insanity, Frank had found in the past, was dangerous, but insanity with a gun was worse. These idiots couldn’t tell the difference between friend and foe, a joke or a threat and would react violently.  
  
It wasn’t so bad in the richer parts of Rapture but in Pauper’s Drop, Artimise Suites… it was worse. A lot worse. There’d been several casualties over the past few weeks. Sinclair’s Persephone was filling up more and more by the day with plasmid using loony toons who thought they were gods.  
  
“Best stay away from them, kid,” Frank muttered. “They ain’t right in the head.”  
  
Clayton looked thoughtful for a moment, before he looked up at Fontaine. “Is it the super powers?”  
  
 _Kid’s too damn smart for his own good_ , Frank thought, almost fondly.  
  
Instead he shook his head. “Nah. They’re just crazy,” he took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke to the ceiling. “Maybe the power got to ‘em and they feel invincible or somethin’, I don’t know. You see any one of those crazies, Clay’,” he fixed the boy with a stern look. “You the run the other direction or ya’ hide. Got it?”  
  
Clayton was smiling brightly despite the conversation. Probably because Fontaine had called him ‘Clay’, his nickname for the kid and Clayton loved it. He’d proudly told his mother about it in front of Fontaine and Em had glared at him. She was protective of her son and Frank couldn’t blame her. If he had a kid, he wouldn’t want him spending time with a guy like himself either.  
  
Clayton, however, was a shadow he couldn’t seem to shake. The kid would either be at Ms Em’s side like a good little boy and if she wasn’t there, he’d now taken up exploring or tracking Fontaine down. Frank was half tempted to suggest putting a bell on the kid, Clayton often snuck up on him. One moment he wouldn’t be there, he’d turn around and suddenly be greeted by a mega watt grin.  
  
He’d tried everything. Snapping at the kid, telling him he was busy, _locking his door_. Kid still appeared. Frank still didn’t know how Clayton got past the locked door. He made a passing comment to Em about at it and she’d just looked at him funny.  
  
 _“He’s five, almost six,”_ she’d said. _“How could he possibly know how to pick locks?”_  
  
Frank didn’t know but the little bastard seemed capable of it. The freakiest moment had been when Clayton had been knocking on his front door.  
  
The elevator up to his pent house had a key code… It was around that time Frank gave up trying to work out how the kid did half the things he did and just accepted them. It was easier that way and he had more important things to think about than a kid sneaking around.  
  
“I’ll run away, Mister Fontaine, promise!” He beamed at him, kicking his legs again, going back to licking his ice cream.  
  
“Good,” Frank put his cigarette out on one of the near by ashtrays. “C’mon then kid. You need to go home now.”  
  
“Aww…”  
  
“Don’t you ‘aww’ me,” he snapped. “That shit don’t work on me and you know it. Get going, finish ya’ ice cream.”  
  
Let it be said that was a sentence he never thought would leave his mouth. Jesus Christ he sounded like a parent. He needed this kid to leave him alone, he wasn’t good for him. He was an issue. There was a simple solution, Frank had considered it at first, just… kill the kid off. Kid’s weren’t tough. They’d be easy, he’d imagined, to bump off, but Clayton had just looked up at him with these big brown eyes and… He couldn’t kill the kid. He just couldn’t.  
  
So here he was, playing parent for a tyke that had nothing to do with him.  
  
Once they were safely in the bathysphere, only when Clayton had finished his ice cream, Fontaine turned to him. He held a stern look on his face, which shocked Clayton. It wasn’t the usual stern almost friendly look Fontaine would show him, it was harsh. Whatever he was going to say next he clearly meant it.  
  
“Okay kid, don’t let me catch you anywhere near Fort Frolic again.”  
  
“Bu-.”  
  
“Ah! No buts, no ifs, no nothing!” Frank snapped, pointing at him. “You stay the hell away from that place and if I catch you there again, I will be telling Em about yous sneaking out.”  
  
Clayton gaped at him. “You can’t do that! She won’t let me go anywhere alone. I have to stay in the house, but I get bored!”  
  
“Of course she won’t let you go anywhere alone, ya five!”  
  
“I’m five and three quarters!”  
  
“Clayton!”  
  
“Sorry…”  
  
“It’s dangerous,” Frank stressed. “Listen, there are some messed up folks in this town and they will not hesitate to hurt you. Especially now some are splicing up like they are. You stay away from Fort Frolic and you stay away from Cohen.”  
  
Clayton looked down at his feet miserably, but nodded his head. It seemed like he’d had this conversation before. His mother had probably delivered it to him, no surprise there, Em didn’t trust anyone. Clayton didn’t trust many people either, but it wasn’t about that. You didn’t have to trust someone for them to pick you up and take you away and Clayton was a small kid. Just like Frank had been.  
  
He knew the dangers better than anyone, he’d lived that life. He’d been Clayton. Maybe that was why he was so damn protective of the kid. He understood.  
  
“Now,” Frank straightened out his suit, glancing down at him and offering his signature smirk. “Empty ya’ pockets kid, I wanna see what ya stole.”  
  
Clayton grinned and pulled out several watches and a bracelet.  
  
Frank had bestowed onto the kid the greatest gift he could give him or at least that was what Frank thought. He taught Clayton how to pick pocket. It had taken a few tries and a lot of practice, but hey the kid was a natural. He blended in with the crowd and if he was caught, he’d get all teary eyed and go on about loosing his Ma before darting off into the crowd saying he’d spotted her. It was one of the many lessons Frank had taught the kid, he’d taught him how to lie too. How to adapt when a situation didn’t go his way and most importantly, he taught the kid how to manipulate people.  
  
All important life lessons in Frank’s opinion.  
  
“Not bad kid. Ya’ pawn those off it’ll give you some change in ya’ pocket.”  
  
“Then I can buy Mama a birthday present!”  
  
“I… suppose or you could get ya self somethin’.”  
  
Clayton shook his head, stuffing the watches and bracelet back in his pockets. “No, I have everything I want. I got my Mama, my house and my toys.. oh and my books! Mama wants some pearls but she’s saving for a new house for us… she won’t spend it on herself,” he pouted, but grinned at Fontaine again. “So I’m gonna get her them!”  
  
“Couldn’t you just draw her a picture?”  
  
“That’s what I’m doing with the card,” he frowned at him. “I wanna buy my Mama some pearls, Mister Fontaine. She likes black ones.”  
  
Frank didn’t get it. He frowned at the kid. “Don’t you wanna buy yourself more stuff though?”  
  
“No,” Clayton shook his head. “I started off with nothing… I didn’t have a Mama or a home…” he frowned at the floor, but soon a smile was back again. “But now I have everything. I don’t need anything else.”  
  
Okay so maybe Clayton wasn’t completely like him. Frank didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing.

* * *

  
Work was a little different today, since everyone was congratulating Daniel on getting married. He had a big beaming smile on his face the entire time and wore his ring with pride. He didn’t ever take it off, just worse gloves more often than before.  
  
Kyburz and Em had smiles on their faces when they saw him. It had been only two weeks since Daniel had gotten married, he’d been on his honeymoon with Opal to the Adonis Luxury resort. Today was his first day back since then and Daniel had the biggest smile on his face.  
  
Kyburz and Em had calmed down since that evening. The plasmid attack had scared them both, but gradually they moved past it. Kyburz would now walk her to work however, Em still had to leave Clayton at home, but she made sure the door was locked and even bought an extra bolt lock for the door. She couldn’t bring him to work, now he had to stay at home on his own. She didn’t like leaving him like that, but she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t afford a babysitter and taking him to work at Hephestus was out of the question. The buildings Fontaine owned were a little different, because there were places she could have Clayton with her and he helped her with some parts. Hephestus though, was not like that.  
  
Plasmid attacks seemed to be on the rise recently. It didn’t seem like the people who used it were quite all there. Almost like they were very quickly loosing touch with reality. She’d seen a few more attacks down at the Drop, so she was going to buy another lock for the door later on today, before picking up Clayton. They’d go off to work at Futuristics building, Clayton would do his reading and studies, she was home schooling him now.  
  
Em had looked at the different schools and academies but quite frankly she didn’t know why any mother in their right mind would send their children there. In one school they were teaching the children how to use crossbows to shoot ‘parasites’ as the named ‘Ryan the Lion’ told them. It was sick. After seeing that and a lost worse, she decided to keep Clayton home and she’d homeschool him. She knew enough and if she taught him her business he might even be able to get a job once he was old enough. Of course, she wanted him to have a better job than hers, but you had to work with what you had.  
  
Recently though, it seemed Clayton was a smart kid. A lot smarter than she’d first anticipated. She’d had to move him along quickly with some of the lessons, he was almost as skilled as she was. It had been startling at first, she’d never seen anything like it, but gradually she got used to it. She taught him at the level he needed and Clayton was thriving. He’d even started to build and make things with pieces of scraps. Everyday after work she would take little pieces home with her for him to play with. No one would notice some scrap pieces, a few bolts and screws missing.  
  
One of Clayton’s favourite things to mess with were watches. He liked all the cogs and mechanisms. A lot of the time he’d take the watch apart just to put it back together again, but if there was one he couldn’t fix he’d keep the parts and make something else out of them. It would be Christmas soon, she wanted to give him his own tool kit, but she was also tempted to take him to the new ice rink in Fontaine’s department store. Emilie had spent many fond memories on the ice back in Norway. Sometimes she’d go skiing too, that was fun, but you couldn’t do that here. Those were things she missed about topside, but at least she could take him ice skating. She was certain Clayton would love it, he’d probably be a bit confused at first, he’d never seen ice before.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Hm?” Em blinked and looked over at Kyburz.  
  
“You zoned out,” he explained, looking a little concerned. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yes,” she nodded. “Just thinking about what I’m going to get Clayton for Christmas, I’m thinking about taking him ice skating.”  
  
He smiled at her. “Sounds like a great idea. I’ve never been ice skating myself, so I don’t know what to expect, but I imagine Clayton would like it.”  
  
“Oh, ice skating is fantastic,” Emilie beamed at him. “So is skiing, but you can’t do that here… I miss that,” she sighed, but shook her head. “You never know, maybe someone will open up a ski resort.”  
  
Daniel came over to them, the smile on his face was so big Em thought it would split his face in half. It was good to see him better than he’d ever been. She’d always worried about Daniel a little. He was self destructive like her. It seemed though, now both of them had someone else to think about other than themselves, they’d both gotten better. Em no longer drank, neither did Daniel. She might smoke a little more than she used to, but anything was better than being drunk.  
  
“It’s weird being back here,” Daniel laughed.  
  
“It’s weird you being here at all, Daniel,” Kyburz smirked. “On time too.”  
  
Daniel rolled his eyes. “That was the old Daniel Warren. This is the new one. I’m a married man now,” his smile seemed to get bigger. “Can you believe it?”  
  
“No,” Pablo spoke, walking to them. “No one can,” he placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured around the room. “You’ve put the rest of these sorry bastards to shame. Who wouldda’ thought that you,” he poked Daniel in the chest. “Would be the guy to get the girl in the end.”  
  
“Be nice, Pablo,” Em warned, turning to walk towards their job, Kyburz, Daniel and Pablo right behind her.  
  
“Me be nice?” Pablo laughed. “When have you ever known me to be that?”  
  
This was how these mornings usually went. They were an odd group. What consisted of an Aussie, a Norwegian, an American and an Italian American. When Bill was with them they even had a Brit. You wouldn’t usually pair such an odd group of people together. They were all so different.  
  
 _Probably why we get on,_ Em mused to herself. _We’re all so different and yet so similar. We gravitate to each other._  
  
When she first started working here, Kyburz had quickly gravitated to her side. Daniel followed a bit after because she and Kyburz were some of the few who were nice to him. Finally Pablo came along after Bill introduced them to him. They’d worked together topside at one point, but those two didn’t really get along. Em figured there was some rivalry between the two or there was on Pablo’s side.  
  
They split off, but Kyburz followed Em to her work station. It was a smallish office, just round the corner from his own. Out of the way and more open, she had a view of the volcanic fields that surrounded Hephestus. He’d sometimes catch her staring out at the ‘Hades fields’ as they were called amongst the workers. It was a stunning sight, watching the red magma run through the rock in a sea of blue. The orange light casted a hazy glow across her work space, but she seemed to like it.  
  
He wanted to talk to her about moving in with him again. As friends of course, he knew Em wasn’t interested in him in that way… yet. He had hope. She might not be ready now, but she would be later. She’d see him eventually and realise how much he cared about her. More than anything he was concerned about her and Clayton’s safety in the drop. The plasmid attacks were only getting worse and half the time they seemed random.  
  
“Kyburz! Em!”  
  
They turned to see Bill jogging over to them. He had a stunned look on his face, but he seemed excited too. Pleased even?  
  
“Bill?”  
  
“Heads up, Ryan’s coming,” Bill explained. “He wants to talk to you.”  
  
“Me?” Em pointed at herself, raising an eyebrow, Kyburz looked equally confused. “Why does he want to talk to me?”  
  
She heard footsteps and looked behind Bill to see that yes Andrew Ryan was walking over to them, with Sullivan just behind him and Karlosky at his side. Ryan’s security.  
  
It wasn’t uncommon to see Ryan walking around Hephestus, he did monthly checks of the entire city to make sure it was running smoothly. Em didn’t know how he found the time.  
  
“Here she is, Mister Ryan,” Bill spoke, gesturing to her. “The best mechanic and electrical engineer Rapture has to offer.”  
  
By the look of Em’s face, she wanted to protest, but that was probably a bad idea, Ryan didn’t look to be in that much of a good mood.  
  
 _Does he ever?_ Em wondered idly.  
  
“Ms Lokken,” Ryan nodded to her, before glancing to the rest of them. “Kyburz, I’d like to talk to Ms Lokken in private.”  
  
Kyburz blinked, looking at Em, worrying no doubt like usual. She offered him a soft smile and he returned it with one of his own. Leaving the office and going to his own. Em had a feeling he’d be watching though, keeping an eye out for when they left to check on her.  
  
“You as well, Bill.” Ryan glanced at the Brit, who nodded and left. He didn’t seem half as nervous as Kyburz had been, but Bill was close with Ryan. Friends even. If Andrew Ryan had any friends.  
  
Karlosky was standing outside her workshop, holding his gun loosely in his hand clearly standing on guard. Sullivan was standing next to Ryan now and maybe she should feel intimidated, but she oddly didn’t. They weren’t half as scary as Fontaine.  
  
“What can I do for you, Mister Ryan?”  
  
Ryan seemed to consider her a moment. He was studying her or that’s what it felt like. Almost akin to the times Fontaine had studied her. There was a coldness in his eyes, like he didn’t see a person but an object. A tool he could use however he wanted and throw away once he was done with her. That part was a little nerve racking.  
  
“Bill tells me you’re the best electrical engineer we have,” he said to start. “I’m also aware that you have done jobs for Fontaine and Sinclair, and that now you’re working for Fontaine part time.”  
  
“All within contract, Mister Ryan,” she replied politely. “I’ve not overstepped any boundaries and I don’t trade secrets.”  
  
He seemed pleased to hear that. “Good. I wish to talk to you about security,” Ryan explained. “I’m sure you’re aware of the recent attacks with plasmids, as well as Lamb’s ilk.”  
  
“I live in Pauper’s Drop, Mister Ryan,” she replied carefully. “That’s all you hear about down there, now days. I’d rather stay out of it.”  
  
“Quite. You see though, there is an issue with security here,” he explained. “If Lamb is able to work her way into the workers of Hephestus, any one of them can enter my office,” he narrowed his eyes. “That is a great risk to security. The central control and genetic key are all located in my office. Whoever gets their hands on that… they might use it for unsavoury purposes. I wouldn’t put it past Lamb to move to more drastic measures. I would like to commission you to make me a lock system that can’t be hacked or picked.”  
  
Emilie blinked. Was he serious? He looked pretty serious and Andrew Ryan wasn’t known for telling jokes. He really was getting paranoid. She doubted it was just about Lamb either, he was probably worrying about Fontaine too.  
  
“I see…” she was silent for a moment thinking it over. “I’m sure I can draft some ideas up, Mister Ryan… present them to you when their ready…”  
  
“Be sure to be quick about it, Ms Lokken,” he fixed her with a cold look. “Let Sullivan go over them and you are to work on nothing else until these plans are finished,” his eyes seemed to get even colder if that was at all possible. “I expect results.”  
  
“Yes Mister Ryan,” she nodded her head. “I’ll work on it straight away, sir.”  
  
Ryan seemed pleased by this. He nodded to her and turned leaving the room, Sullivan behind him and Karlosky tailing them. The Russian glanced back at her and gave her a thumbs up. Em nodded and he nodded back before following after Ryan and Sullivan.  
  
Emilie slumped in her chair, letting a sigh leave her lips. She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, thinking about what exactly she was meant to do now. Sure, he wanted a locking system, but what? Something that couldn’t be hacked, that couldn’t be picked? So no forms of traditional locking. Air locks? Could she do that? Maybe, but there were risks with air locks and too many variables. She might need to pay a visit to Minerva’s Den. They had the latest technology there or claimed to at least, she was on good terms with Porter he’d probably show her around. Whal was a different matter entirely, he was a more stand offish sort. Always seemed to be constantly judging everyone.  
  
A knock sounded at her door, she looked up to see Kyburz leaning against the frame. He looked worried about her, probably running over a million and two reasons as to why Ryan was there.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“Yeah…” she nodded her head. “Ryan’s commissioned me to make him a security system.”  
  
“A security system?”  
  
“Well, a locking system.. for his office,” she sighed and pulled out her note book and a pen. “Apparently he thinks Lamb is going to make a move against him. He doesn’t want her getting into Hephestus or more importantly his office. He thinks she’ll… I don’t know take control or something,” she waved around idly, scribbling some notes down. “I have to come up with a system that’s un hackable and can’t be picked.”  
  
“You won’t be able to do that on your own,” Kyburz frowned at her and she shrugged.  
  
It looked like she might have to. She wasn’t even sure she was meant to be telling Kyburz this stuff. Well, Ryan wasn’t here right now so he couldn’t tell her what she could and couldn’t do.  
  
“I have an idea…” she mumbled. “I’ll need to head down to Minerva’s Den tomorrow. Go over some things with Porter to be sure..”  
  
“He deals with computer science,” Kyburz frowned. “What would he know about locks.”  
  
“Maybe nothing, but he might no some guys that have the right stuff,” she scribbled a few notes. “There’s the robotics engineers and the like in that place. They might have some of the technology I need.”  
  
“Just… be careful, okay?” He glanced back at the steps, taking a few cautious steps inside to talk to her. “Between you and me… Ryan’s been a bit…” he waved his hand around. “Ya know? Not all there.”  
  
“Then I better do a good job then, hadn’t I?”  
  
Kyburz sighed, nodding his head. “Just… please be careful.”  
  
“Always am, Kyburz.”

* * *

  
Arcadia was probably what would be considered the most beautiful part of Rapture.  
  
It was the one place where everyone, rich or poor could take a break and have a nice wander through the woods. Enjoy a little bit of outdoor life even in a place under the sea. Some parts were simply gardens, other parts were more rural, with caves to explore if citizens of Rapture felt adventurous. Shallow rivers ran through the forest, filled with freshwater. Open pastures were used to grow vegetables and there was a small orchard filled with apples, oranges, pears, a few lemon trees here and there.  
  
Flowers lined many of the walkways, bees hovered and buzzed around them, the artificial sound of birds filled the air. The scent of the roses near the mill wheel filtered through the haze. Chinese lanterns in various colours lined the walls or stretched across small open spaces.  
  
Arcadia was kept warm, occasionally it would be made colder to give the trees and people a more natural environment. As the months drew closer to winter, the temperature dropped in Arcadia to match. Leaves would fall and line the pathways, it would be the duty of those who worked in Arcadia to sweep them up. They would then be thrown onto a pile and used as compost later.  
  
Some parts of Arcadia which was cut off from the main section held cabins, for the lucky few who could afford it to take a vacation. Some of the cabins had even been bought and converted into actual living arrangements for members of the Arcadia staff. They’d use all their wages to buy the cabin and alter it, then they didn’t need to pay for anything else like travel.  
  
Connected to Arcadia was the Farmer’s Market. A place where fresh food from Arcadia could be sold by the very planters themselves. Fresh vegetables, fruits, cheese and even meats were sold at the stores. Mostly the meat consisted of chicken, turkey and other smaller mammals. One farmer even held a small flock of sheep. He’d able to convince Ryan to let him have the small flock, stating that people would get bored of just eating fish. Most of the other pieces of meat, however, were sold secretly. Supplied by Fontaine by smuggling them down. Most of those dealings were done behind the counter and sneaked in peoples packages. They were simply called ‘today’s specials’ and whatever had been brought down, was what you got.  
  
Farmer’s Market was a picturesque place. It looked like a traditional market you’d get topside, paved walkways and more colourful Chinese lanterns hung across the walkways. The market was bright and colourful, always filled with life and the busy rush of shoppers. It was open quite late too and then the lights would dim and it would become a night market, with the beautiful light from the lanterns warmly glowing overhead.  
  
A few other places were attached to Farmer’s Market, like the ‘The Silverwing Apiary’ and ‘Worley Winery’ that were own by separate businesses.  
  
The Silverwing, owned by Tasha Denu, was a very well established and popular shop. It sold Rapture’s finest honey, but not only that the bees themselves were vital to sustaining Arcadia. The Silverwing had become so popular, that even the rising American Football team in Rapture had named themselves ‘The Rapture Stingers’ in honour of it.  
  
Worley Winery produced some of the finest wines and alcoholic beverages in Arcadia. What many didn’t know, however, was that most of the wine and alcohol was watered down. The owner only ever used distilled water, he argued with a few customers who accused him of doing so. Suggesting that maybe he should just take the water straight from the ocean.  
  
All in all, Arcadia and the Farmer’s Market were beautiful picturesque places that enticed many of Rapture’s citizens. The best part of the whole place, was all of it was completely free or at least it had been. Now, however, you had to pay to enter Arcadia. You didn’t have to pay for the Farmer’s Market, thankfully, but to see the most beautiful place in Rapture? That you had to pay for.  
  
Julie Langford hated the very idea of having to pay to walk through the woods. She may be a crazy or batty plant lady, but she’d spent the time to build Arcadia, it was her life’s work. She was proud to show it off. Not many botanists could say they’d planted a forest at the bottom of the ocean, now could they?  
  
Then Ryan came along, always Andrew bloody Ryan getting in the way of things. He’d wanted to boost profits in Arcadia, so naturally Julie suggested the oxygen supply. So now, she was selling oxygen. The most vital thing in this glass tomb and she was selling it. You could think it was a given, to have oxygen, what was Ryan going to do if you couldn’t afford it? Cut the oxygen supply from that one area? Seemed absurd.  
  
Still, Ryan had liked the idea and it appealed to him since it seemed Fontaine was already in the business of selling oxygen. Tooth and claw. That little futuristics building of his was proving to be a great success. So naturally selling oxygen in a place that created it freely, seemed the right thing to do and part of the boosted profits Arcadia was now producing rode on Julie’s hip.  
  
Paying to walk in the woods, however? Well that was simply ridiculous and she had argued with him… but Ryan paid her, he was the one who wrote her cheques, so she’d given in. She’d let him construct those god awful tollbooths and any and all free accesses to Arcadia was cut off.  
  
Some people had been buried in Arcadia, towards the back, opposite the tea gardens. What where the mourners going to do the next time someone died? Where they expected to pay before or after they’d finished burying their dead.  
  
“I simply don’t understand that man, sometimes,” Julie mumbled as she looked over one of her recent test results. She’d started playing around with ADAM and plant genetics, wondering what it could do to the plants here. Lifting her head up, pushing the glasses back up her nose she glared a little out of the window. “I spent years working out how to kill trees to scare the Japs, then he asks me to come here and do the same thing in reverse. I do that, as per Mister Ryan’s requests and now… now people have to pay. Pay! It’s absurd, don’t you think Edna?”  
  
Edna glanced up, she packing away from pots and flowers into a crate.  
  
Edna Clarice was a small woman, who believed quite strongly in herbal remedies. She’d loved Arcadia the moment she saw it and now worked full time, even lived in one of the cabins. She was an Australian woman, her accent wasn’t quite as strong as others, it was softer almost musical. Whenever Edna spoke, however, there always seemed to be this far away quality to her voice.  
  
Her complexion was startling, she was pale, everything about her was pale. Pale blonde hair, pale green eyes, she looked washed out nearly all the time. You’d think she was sick, if you didn’t see the slight hint of pink to her cheeks and lips.  
  
Edna worked as one of the gardeners in Arcadia, but she also made and sold herbal remedies out of her cabin. She had her own little herbal garden right outside her cabin, where she’d go and pick things. Recently she’d been ordering sea water, mixing it with strange concoctions or pouring them into little bottles. She’d wrap a cord around these bottles, seal them with wax and sold them as tokens of protection. To keep you safe from the raging sea above. Edna herself wore one and she did sell a few of these little sealed bottles. Mostly they were brought by mothers who’d give them to children.  
  
Julie, being a woman of science, thought it was utter nonsense, but Edna was nice to talk to and seemed to agree with her when it comes to plants. That being, plants were sometimes better than people.  
  
“I think Mister Ryan cares too much about money and not enough about people,” Edna spoke softly, she packed the rest of the pots away. “He cares little for their well being. Being in the woods… it helps you. Heals you…”  
  
Julie blinked back at her in surprise. “I suppose I do feel better afterwards,” she agreed, nodding tightly. “But paying to walk in the woods?”  
  
“Nothing’s sacred anymore,” Edna said. “In Greece, Arcadia was considered to be the birth place of both Hermes and Pan. It was sacred, it was held in high regard. It wasn’t brought to being so cheap as simply buying it. You couldn’t afford it. Mister Ryan has taken away it’s glory by making it something you can buy. Beauty like this is not something that can simply be bought and paid for.”  
  
“I’d have to argue with you on that,” Julie replied, not quite sure where all the talk about Ancient Greece had come from, but this was what she meant. Edna could become a little dreamy and… odd, at times.  
  
There was a reason Edna was named ‘The Witch of Arcadia’ by the children of Rapture. Hell, she was called that by some of the adults too. Edna had a very spiritual belief about her. Julie was surprised she’d even come down to Rapture in the first place, that Ryan had even invited her down here. Though it seemed that Edna did believe in science, she held in high regard, it was how she made her herbal remedies after all. She was a scientist, a chemist and botanist, she just took her beliefs a little far at times.  
  
Julie was surprised that she hadn’t gone off to join Lamb’s little cult yet, but she supposed the woman loved Arcadia too much.  
  
“How so?” Edna asked softly, picking up the crate filled with pots and a few potted plants. “Because you were paid to build it? The plant life and nature already existed, you simply happened to place it in a different place.”  
  
“That’s… fair, I suppose,” Julie frowned slightly. “But I now might be able to change such things.”  
  
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” Edna advised.  
  
Julie rolled her eyes, glancing at her in annoyance. “Rapture is a place where we can push the scientific boundaries,” she held up the bottle of ADAM she’d purchased from Fontaine. “And this stuff allows us to alter things even further. To really push our genetics and plant life’s genetics even further.”  
  
“If you say so,” Edna shrugged, walking towards the exit.  
  
“And what do you mean by that?” Julie frowned at the back of the woman’s head.  
  
Edna turned to her and offered when of her little peculiar smiles. “There’s a natural order to things, Julie. An order man was not meant to mess with,” she added ominously. “And here you all are, playing god. There are some things we were not meant to know or should know, I believe that it should stay that way.”

* * *

  
_Edna Clarice,_   
  
_New job:_   
  
_Well here we are… I’m a gardener for Arcadia, don’t have to pay to get in because I never leave, I don’t need to. I’ve got everything I need right here. The grass, the water, food and the small slivers of sunlight… ah yes… truly the gods have blessed me with such a place._


	23. To Each His Own

_Augustus Sinclair,_   
  
_Private Interests:_   
  
_I hear often, “Mr. Sinclair, you just gotta heart o’ stone… don’t you wanna share with your fellow man?” An’ I tell ‘em, listen… I hail from sunny Panama… and my grand-daddy got himself drowned buildin’ the Big Ditch. Went on an’ on about doin’ it for the “People.” For the world entire! Well, not for me, thank you. I came to Georgia to strike it rich, and Rapture all the moreso. You won’t catch me blowin’ my last bubble for any other personage… plural or singular._

* * *

  
“You said you had something good for me Poole?” Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I don’t very much appreciate you showing your face here, mind. People start asking question…”   
  
Stanley Poole shifted uneasily in his seat. He was making Sinclair nervous with his jittery nature. He seemed incapable of sitting still for any long periods of time, especially when he felt under pressure.  
  
“Ah, well, you see, Mister Sinclair… they’ve gone and taken Dionysus Park.”  
  
“Who? Lamb?” He frowned. “I know Ava’s been letting her run some little therapy sessions down there…”  
  
“Not just that,” Poole shook his head. “It’s filled with artists and.. other folks who ain’t happy with how things are going. It’s all free too. People can go and show their art off for everyone. Even that loon Cohen has put some work up,” he shifted again and Sinclair felt his eye twitch in irritation, but the man went on. “I don’t think Cohen will be staying long, though. He’s a… bit of a wild one.”  
  
“Yes, Sander Cohen is little larger than life,” Sinclair nodded, recalling the few times he’d actually spoken to Cohen. “So Lamb now own’s Dionysus Park.”  
  
“She’s opening it up for everyone to come and see. A lot of ‘em poor folk are going. It’s… gonna be a retreat for them, they can stay there however long they’d like and it’s completely for free. Charity work, that’s what she’s doing, sounds kind crazy in Rapture, right?”   
  
It sounded like the best idea she’d had. Lamb had done the poor houses and bread lines for a while, but a whole resort? A place where the poor could experience the luxuries of the rich? Well, there were a lot of folk who’d run for the chance. It sounded like high grade bunko and Andrew Ryan wasn’t going to like it.   
  
Still, Sinclair had to tip his hat when it was earned, even Frank had been mildly impressed by her. Considering that Fontaine seemed to view the world through a harsher lens than even Sinclair did, well getting him to be impressed was not an easy task. He didn’t like people, he held nothing but contempt for them. Sinclair had found himself in this weird place of being tolerable so maybe they were friends? Or Frank’s very warped version of what friendship was, that didn’t mean that shabby each other in the back was off the table.   
  
Bottom line, Fontaine didn’t like people so for Lamb to impress him was in of itself, a miracle. Then of course there was this new line of investigation that Sinclair had been entertaining himself with. Clayton Lokken. The boy had somehow managed to find a chink in Fontaine’s well crafted armour and found what little remained of a person inside him. Sinclair would even wager that deep down Fontaine actually liked the kid and was reluctantly letting him closer. He probably wasn’t even aware that he was doing it or maybe he was and that’s why he kept complaining to Sinclair about the kid.   
  
It had presented itself as another headache for Sinclair, but now it was just intriguing and a useful piece of information. Not many people could say they had dirt on the infamous Frank Fontaine. Of course, Sinclair himself wasn’t going to take any action against the child. He was better than that, but he wasn’t so good that he wouldn’t sell the information to the highest bidder. For Fontaine to care about someone, it just didn’t happen. He didn’t batter an eye with the test subjects and because of this business was going well. Then this kid came along and completely turned his whole world on its axis. Suddenly, Fontaine actually gave a damn about someone other than himself. Frank was a complicated bastard when he wanted to be.   
  
All this was speculation for the moment, he had Lamb to deal with for now, for Andrew Ryan. Old Andy was getting desperate now. This little news about a free resort for Lamb’s group of followers was not going to improve his mood, but it might improve the cash flow to Sinclair’s wallet.   
  
“You know somethin’,” Sinclair offered him friendly smile. “I think you should go and talk to Mister Ryan about this,” he grinned at him. “Think of it this way, Poole. How impressed will Mister Ryan be with ya, if you deliver this information to him yourself?” _And stop coming here,_ he added in the privacy of his own mind.  
  
The last thing he needed was Poole digging just a little too deep and finding out about Persephone. That was out of the question. Not only would it put a bad spotlight on Sinclair himself, but it would also put a spotlight on Fontaine and an angry Frank Fontaine was not something he wanted to deal with. It was also not something he wanted directed at him.   
  
It was a balancing act, keeping everything steady and balancing it between these mad men. Some days Sinclair even felt like he was walking on a tight rope, balancing precariously over an edge like Persephone itself. One false move, one single slip up and everything would come crashing down around him. He wouldn’t say he was starting to feel the heat now, but it was getting awful close.   
  
Both men jumped at the sound of a loud explosion outside, but soon relaxed. They were getting used to such things by now, especially around the Drop. Plasmid attacks where getting worse round the poorer areas of Rapture. It seemed all it took was somebody to give the nobodies a little power and they suddenly all thought they were gods.   
  
Sinclair had found himself spending more and more time in Persephone recently. It was safer there at least than down here in the Drop. At least in Persephone he had men to guard him, people who dealt with this sort of thing on the regular. They treated the prisoners with little remorse. They’d had to build an extra wing on the medical side of the building, simply to accommodate the over abundance in injuries as of late. Sinclair didn’t want to think of the reasons why. Out of sight, out of mind. That was the best method for dealing with situations like this. He’d turned many a blind eye before in his career, both topside and down here. He’d continue to do so for the foreseeable future.  
  
Having a heart was a liability in Sinclair’s book. You wouldn’t catch him wiping away a tear for any poor soul who’d had it rough. Even if they didn’t deserve it. By the looks of how Rapture was going, it was only going to get worse. He’d have to get tougher just to survive. Survival, that’s what it’d come to now, not that Andrew Ryan would see it. He didn’t see Rapture for what it was and he certainly didn’t see what it was becoming. Sinclair believed that Ryan would be the last to see it, if he ever did.   
  
One thing at a time though. It was no good rushing into things without a plan. He had to deal with Lamb and her ilk first, then work out what to do about this recent development with Fontaine and finally figure out how to keep Andrew Ryan happy, all while keeping afloat himself. After all, under the Atlantic Ocean, it was a lot easier to drown under the pressure. Especially when you had no where to go except down.   
  
Rise Rapture Rise. That might be the nice little tag line that Ryan had employed Cohen to make, but the artist didn’t get it right. You didn’t rise in Rapture, down here the only thing you did was sink.

* * *

  
“Come on, Kjære, keep up,” Em held her hand out to Clayton. “I don’t want to loose you. Minerva’s Den is a big place.”   
  
“I know, Mama, I’ve been here before.”   
  
“The ventilation doesn’t count.”   
  
Minerva’s Den wasn’t the biggest place in Rapture, but it still held elements that were impressive. Em herself had done some work on the inner workings of Minerva’s Den, connecting the wiring to the rest of the city. She’d even met the two men in charge of the main facility and they were pleasant enough. Porter was certainly the friendlier of the two, but Wahl had his moments, but he also had his quirks.   
  
Still the Den was impressive. For one thing, the very heart of the facility held the infamous ‘Thinker’, a computer so far advanced it could almost think for itself. The Thinker kept Rapture moving, it dealt with train and metro time tables, the geothermal controls and any other form of operational support. The Thinker was also responsible for the times when the lights would dim and brighten to give the people of Rapture a more normal routine of night and day.   
  
Whilst the Thinker was the main attraction, there were many more sights to see. For instance McClendon Robotics and the Air-Tite Archives.   
  
The Robotics did what it said on the tin, while the Archives were filled with people’s private information, audio diaries and private details. If you wanted a secret to be kept, it was usually filed away here in specialised containers that were never to be opened.   
  
Em wasn’t interested in those today, she was interested in Rapture Central Computing. It was the main section of Minerva’s Den and the Thinker was the heart of it.   
  
Rapture Central Computing was run by Charles Milton Porter and Reed Wahl, the two brilliant minds behind the Thinker.   
  
Entering through the doors to Minerva’s Den, holding Clayton’s hand, they were instantly greeted by one of the robots. It was a robotic woman situated on a desk, the paint was bright and held a permeant gleaming white smile. In the light the bright glossy paint shined and reflected the light around the room with the robots movements. If the light didn’t shine like it did, you’d almost believe the robot was an actual woman standing behind a desk. It was only once you got closer did you see how fake and plastic she looked.   
  
As if sensing their presence, the robotic woman moved, her limbs jointedly tilting and her head turned to address them.   
  
_“Hello there, welcome to Minerva’s Den, the home of Rapture’s high technology.”_ It spoke.   
  
Emilie grimaced slightly. She found these things damn creepy, with their permanent plastic and fake smiles. She once saw a failed robot with it’s shiny human looking skin melting and pealing off after catching fire. Em had taken one look at that and decided she didn’t like robots. No matter how good they were.  
  
It seemed that Clayton didn’t like them either as he flinched and gripped her hand tighter. He glared at the robot angrily, his gaze so fierce that Em was certain he was imagining it melting.   
  
“It’s just a robot,” she assured, running her fingers through his soft curls and waves.   
  
Clayton nodded, still watching it cautiously. “I hate those things. They scared me,” he pouted and looked up at her. “When I used to sneak around I’d see them and I wouldn’t be able to tell if they were people or not.”   
  
“Well you don’t need to worry about that now, Kjære,” she smiled softly at him. “You’ll never have to worry about anyone else ever again.”   
  
“That’s not what Mister Fontaine says.”  
  
“Oh?” She rose an eyebrow. “What does Mister Fontaine say and when have you been speaking to him?”   
  
Clayton gave a shrug. “He says that everyone is out for themselves and you shouldn’t trust anyone.”   
  
Emilie considered this a moment. In theory he wasn’t wrong, but there were people you could rely on. It didn’t stay true that everyone was going to stab you in the back just to get ahead. Basically the whole world was not made up of people like Frank Fontaine, even down here in Rapture there were a few good and honest people. The trick was spotting them and knowing who you could trust.   
  
“I suppose he’s right about that with some people,” she bent down and booped Clayton’s nose, causing him to giggle. “But not with everyone. The trick, kjære, is knowing who to trust and who not to. I trust your Uncle Kyburz and your Aunt Kelly,” she gave him a stern look. “But I do not trust Fontaine. He’s only in this for himself, you best remember that.”   
  
“You don’t trust Mister Fontaine?” He blinked as Em stood up.   
  
“No I don’t.”   
  
“But you work for him?”   
  
She laughed and nodded her head in agreement. “Yes I do and if anything, that’s all the more reason why I don’t trust him. Same with Ryan. You never trust the people in charge of you, you’re just a number to them.”   
  
“It can’t always be like that, right?”  
  
“No, not always, but they have a business to run,” she lead him towards the main hall of Minerva’s Den. “So if someone isn’t performing to their standards they have to let them go. It’s sad, but it’s the only way to keep your business alive.”   
  
Clayton frowned slightly, he looked ahead of him a moment, before looking back at his mother. They often had conversations like this. It surprised her how switched on he actually was. He was a bright little boy, seemed to see more than what you thought he did. Understood more about people and their nature than a child his age should. Clayton also seemed to be showing an interest in inventing himself. He was often sitting in the kitchen when she got home making things. Building little toys with the gears he found or that she brought back for him to play with. Currently his little project was building replicas of some of the more noticeable and famous buildings of Rapture. His first had been the Futuristics building and this didn’t surprise Em, he did see it an awful lot.   
  
“Mama?”  
  
“Yes kjære?”  
  
“I don’t wanna be a businessman. I don’t want to be mean.”   
  
She secretly hoped he wouldn’t. Emilie could see Clayton maybe working here in the robotics section since he liked inventing so much. He was a natural and he enjoyed the science behind it.   
  
“Emilie.”   
  
Em turned to see Charles walking towards them, a smile on his face that didn’t appear often. He was tall, broad dark skinned man, with warm dark eyes. A wedding ring was always present on his left hand, though he’d come down to Rapture alone. He was a pleasant man, if a little distant at times, but he always greeted you with warmth. He’d worked with Turning in the war, even helped develop the famous ‘Enigma Machine’ to decipher the Nazi’s code. Porter was a no nonsense kind of person, if you had a job to do, you were there to do the job not dilly dally and Em could respect that. She felt very much the same about work, though she was partial to a bit of fun now and then.  
  
“Milton,” she smiled at him and they shook hands. “It’s good to see you again.”   
  
“It’s good to see you too,” he smiled at her. “I did miss your unique way in handling some of these idiots,” his eyes flickered down to Clayton and the smile softened some. “And who is this?”   
  
“This is Clayton,” she gestured to him and Clayton waved at Porter. “He’s my son.”   
  
“Hello sir.”   
  
Porter knelt down on one knee and offered his hand out, which Clayton hesitantly took, not used to being treated like an adult.   
  
He shook his hand gently and offered Clayton a friendly smile. “It’s very good to meet you Clayton, I’m Charles Milton Porter, but you can call me Milton.”   
  
“Why not Charles?”  
  
“I was never much of a fan of my first name,” he laughed getting back to his feet. “When did this happen?”   
  
“Oh, I found him.”   
  
“In an air vent!” Clayton said proudly.   
  
Milton laughed and shook his head in amusement. He didn’t laugh often. There always seemed to be a great cloud of sadness hovering over Porter. It followed him wherever he went and when he smiled it didn’t always write reach his eyes. Em wasn’t sure what it was that had happened, but she recognised grief when she saw it. She didn’t ask of course, it wasn’t her place.   
  
“I should imagine that was quite the surprise,” he smirked at her and she nodded.   
  
“A big one. I fell off my ladder.”  
  
“It was funny,” Clayton giggled.  
  
Porter smiled, his eyes flickered to Em again and he gestured behind him to the rest of the stairs. “Shall we? I imagine you want to get this done fast. You sounded stressed on the phone.”   
  
“Ah, Ryan’s asked me to make a locking system for his office,” she explained, glancing around the room they entered. “I was thinking magnetic locks, I was wondering if any of your guys had some technology I could use?”   
  
Porter paused, looking thoughtful. “I would say the robotics are the best place to look. I know a few of them have been looking into different locking systems for the Den. Mostly to protect the Archives,” he pocketed his hands as he lead them through the main hall towards’s McClendon’s Robotics. “We’re worried that some of the more.. crazy sort might try something.”  
  
“You mean the plasmid heads?” She asked. “I live in Pauper’s Drop, it’s a real mess down there thanks to these things. I didn’t think it reached here.”   
  
Porter sighed. “I think splicing is everywhere.”   
  
“Splicing?”   
  
“It’s what some of the folks round here have taken to calling it,” they entered through the door of the robotics section. “Because of how the ADAM works. It splices your genetic code. Allows you to rewrite it how you want it, that’s why people can change their looks.”  
  
The robotics section of Minerva’s Den was open to the public and a few tourists were looking around. Standing on podiums were various inventions for house hold use. Robotic vacuums, baby carriages and even the latest security cameras were all on display, lights shining down above them. A few more of the creepy robots were dotted around and a cheerful woman’s voice spoke over the intercom system advertising the various inventions.   
  
“I don’t know why anyone would like to.. splice like that. I don’t see the point.”   
  
“Most of the folks down here have been splicing with brain boost,” Porter explained, before he sighed and shook his head, leading Em towards the back storage rooms. “I’ve seen some folks splice to an entirely different race.”  
  
“What?” Em looked startled. “Splicing to be…? Why?!”   
  
He sighed. “You hear it sometimes, ‘why don’t you splice white? Get ahead?’.” Porter laughed bitterly. “I tell them firstly, I am ahead and secondly I remind them what Rapture’s all about. The colour of your skin means nothing, it’s the power of your mind alone that’s important,” he reached down fiddling with the lock on the storage rooms. “It’s a pity for some people you can’t splice in some common sense.”  
  
Emilie snorted. “I hear you. Plenty of people I know… well, splicing in some common sense wouldn’t be a bad thing, let’s put it that way.”   
  
Porter smiled, before he pulled out a box that contained several long glass tubes filled with metal inside them. Copper wiring Em would guess, probably to allow a current to pass through them.   
  
“These are some spare circuits.” he showed them to her. “We send a current through these and it creates a magnetic field that holds the locks in place.”   
  
She smiled slightly. “Ryan won’t like these,” she held one up. “He’ll say they’d be too easy to remove or damaged.” She thought about it a second. “Unless I use the electricity and power from the core itself…”   
  
Porter raised an eyebrow. “That could work. No one would shut down the core… it’d be suicide.”   
  
“Exactly,” Em said softly. “People of Rapture are too fond of themselves to try that,” she lifted up one of the tubes. “But I could base my circuits off this design. Mind if I borrow one to look at?”   
  
“Knock yourself out,” Porter put the rest of the box back. “Just maybe hide it. McClendon get very protective of their designs and products.”   
  
Emilie nodded and hid the circuit away in her bag. “Thanks Porter, I owe you one.”

* * *

  
It was late. The Medical Pavilion was mostly deserted, only a skeleton crew remained to take care of patients overnight. The cosmetic surgery was closed, but the lights were still on in Steinman’s operating theatre.   
  
Doctor J.S. Steinman, the well renowned surgeon, was currently hovering over a corpse of a woman. She’d died on the operating table and her body had been taken to the morgue. Steinman had sneaked in later on in the day, placing the body on a cart, covering it over with a sheet and wheeling it back to his surgery. The body had been carefully hidden away in one of the many mortuary cabinets surrounding his work station, kept cool and fresh.   
  
He’d spent the whole day performing surgery on those that came in, requesting the same tired old looks. The upturned nose, the cleft chin, the ample bosom and it was growing oh so tiresome.   
  
In recent times Steinman had begun to develop an obsession with the work of Picasso. His unique and unusual view of the world, representing people as cubes, triangles and over such shapes, completely disregarded the traditional form of painting a person. The world had called him a visionary, a genius and a talent ahead of his time.   
  
In his study and his home, Steinman had filled the walls with images of Picasso’s paintings, next to them he’d placed photographs of women’s faces and then he’d began to experiment. Cutting up the images into different shapes and then putting them back together again in a macabre mosaic. Sometimes he’d swap one images nose for another’s just to see what it looked like.   
  
Pictures and collages would not entertain Steinman for long, however, he wanted to experiment with a human body. He wanted to push himself to create the unique and sharp edges that Picasso showcased in his art, but on an actual human being.   
  
That was what this body was about. This was his first test, his first draft of recreating his vision.   
  
Steinman had been giddy the entire day in the knowledge of what he’d be doing later on. He’d almost screwed up on of the surgeries in his haste to get it finished. Thankfully, he’d been able to salvage it and restore the look to the boring and monotonous shape that had been requested. Even if he thought what was deemed a mistake had looked far better.   
  
Carefully, Steinman selected a scalpel from the surgical equipment by his side. He peered over the body a moment, before so very carefully and skilfully removing the eye lids. He deposited these in the organic waste, turning back to the corpse on the table and stared.   
  
Already his vision was beginning to take shape. The eyes were no longer hidden away by the eyelids, they were instead in full view. Their round shape fully visible for all to see. It was breathtaking. This corpse was already beginning to look like a work of art and if he could do this with a mere cadaver, what would he be able to do with a living, breathing human? The possibilities were endless and Steinman felt a thrill shoot up his spine.   
  
He returned with his scalpel, slicing away the skin that covered the cheek bones, until he was finally able to reach the bone itself. The face was already quite an angular one, but now that flesh covering the bone had been removed… well it took on the sharpness he was after. Yes, if you simply polished away those visible bones… you’d have your very own ivory jewellery. All it would take was a simple surgery and you’d never had to buy a single piece of expensive hide from an animal ever again.   
  
With two successful procedures done Steinman felt giddy, empowered and began to work again, albeit this time with a lot less care. It didn’t take long for the surgeon to fall into a frenzy. He began slicing and cutting away at any part of skin he deemed unimportant, his macabre fascination ventured away from the face and down to the neck. In his frenzied haze he slit the neck into ribbons of human flesh, before neatly turning these ribbons into neat little bows.   
  
The smell of copper filled the air, Steinman was almost intoxicated by the smell alone, but it was the faint traces of ADAM that still remained in the blood that got him excited. He worked tirelessly, making his way down the body, correcting and altering what he didn’t like. Perfecting the body to match his own twisted vision and hideous, blood filled fantasy.  
  
Just as he was about to reach beginning of the reproductive organs, determined to bring those to the surface and celebrate the unique ability women possessed to bring new life into the world, a voice cut through his haze.   
  
_“Steinman…”_   
  
So shocked and stunned, Steinman slipped and made a cut in the wrong area. He wasn’t focussed on that just yet, he was gazing around the room looking for the source of the voice, but found he was alone.   
  
Steinman looked down at the body, at his work of art and scowled at the mistake. It had completely ruined the whole piece, it stood out, amongst the horrendous mutilation and eerily precise incisions. To anyone else it would simply look like another cut for the collection, but to Steinman it had completely ruined his art.   
  
In a fit of blind rage, he took his scalpel again and began slicing and stabbing into the corpse. Blood began to trickle over the edge of the operating table and splash across the once clean floors. Steinman’s rage induced tantrum was so violent he snapped the blade of his scalpel, sending the surgeon into another blind fury. This time, however, he took up his bone saw.   
  
It didn’t take long for Steinman to completely dismember the body, making it unrecognisable, as both a human body and a corpse entire. Blood covered him from head to toe, it was splattered across his face and caked on his gloves.   
  
Finally, as the rage left him, Steinman collapsed to the floor, clutching desperately at his head. It felt like it was throbbing, like his skull was trying to split itself in two.   
  
_“Steinman…”_   
  
He looked up and shot backwards, startled at the glowing light before him. It shimmered like a scalpel and finally seemed to take the shape of the most beautiful woman Steinman had ever seen. She was wrapped in bloodied bandages, her face seemed to change at all times, bandages were wrapped around her eyes and blood pooled in the places where the eyes would be. Some of the blood even leaked out from under the bandages and escaped out of the corner of her mouth. Her hair flowed down and seemed to defy gravity itself by floating around her like some sort of display.   
  
_“Steinman… I have what you’re looking for…”_ she cooed, holding her arms out to him. Arms that had pieces of metal, similar to a scalpel blade, sticking out. _“Just open your eyes…”_   
  
He reached for her, slowly trying to get to his feet, but due to the mess he caused with the body he slipped in the blood and collided with the cold, tiled floor.   
  
Steinman groaned, but was quick to dismiss his pain, looking up to where the beautiful woman had stood, only to see nothing. The vision was gone. That perfect angel of blood and gore had vanished from his sight, but Steinman knew no angel would visit Rapture… but a goddess might. Yes… that was the only explanation, but which goddess?   
  
“I just want to make them beautiful…” he whispered, looking back at the discarded body parts. “I just want to make them beautiful.. oh goddess… I just want to make them beautiful, but they always turn out wrong!” He reached for his bone saw again, when one of those elegant hands with fingernails like knives gently lay over his hand. He stilled, looking up but finding no one there and when he looked back the hand had gone also. “Who are you goddess? Which one of the great Olympians has graced me with their presence?”   
  
_“You want to make them beautiful… do you not? I can help you… only I can help you Steinman… you know who I am..”_   
  
“Aphrodite?” He asked hesitantly, receiving a titter of laughter in reply. “Of course…” he breathed. “I understand… only you would show your radiant light to a true advocate of beauty.”   
  
No reply came to him and he removed his surgical mask, a bright and manic smile stretched across his face. He finally understood, he had been chosen. Above all the others, Aphrodite trusted him with her vision of beauty… he was honoured, humbled and overwhelmed.  
  
“I shall not fail you, goddess,” he got to his feet, placing the bone saw on the table and looking over the mistake that was left on the table. Just a failed piece of artwork, that was all. You had to start somewhere, it was understandable that his first real attempt hadn’t worked out how he hoped, but with more practice, he was sure to achieve his vision.   
  
Steinman carefully disposed of the body, stuffing it into the incinerator at the crematorium, brushing what little remained of the body into the garbage. He then returned to his office to wash up and clean up his mess in the surgery. He disposed of the broken scalpel, cleaned the bone saw and stuffed his scrubs into the cleaning pile. If anyone asked he’d just say he’d been working with cadavers, which wasn’t wholly untrue.   
  
The next day when the family came to collect their loved one, they were shocked and horrified to find the body missing. The medical pavilion was in a fit of chaos as nurses and doctors alike began searching for the missing body, while the grieving family yelled and screamed at two nurses.   
  
Steinman had leisurely walked past them, whistling to himself, a cheerful smile on his face despite the chaos surrounding him.   
  
He felt like today was going to be a good day and he couldn’t wait to tell Cohen what he’d been up to and was planning to continue. The other man might be able to give Steinman some tips, Cohen did sculpt with clay after all, it was very much the same thing.   
  
_Besides,_ he thought to himself as he got ready for the next round of surgery, _great minds think alike._

* * *

  
_J.S.Steinman,_   
  
_Picasso of Surgery:_   
  
_When Picasso became bored of painting people, he started representing them as cubes and other abstract forms. The world called him a genius! I’ve spent my entire surgical career creating the same tired shapes, over and over again: the upturned nose, the cleft chin, the ample bosom. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could do with a knife she that old Spaniard did with a brush?_


	24. Night and Day

_Gilbert Alexander:_   
  
_A fascinating relationship:_   
  
_The relationship between Mister Fontaine and Clayton Lokken is fascinating to watch. At first glance I assumed he was only being nice to the boy to keep control of his mother, but after further analysis I have come to the conclusion that the fondness is genuine. For both parties it would seem. I have now taken to observing their interactions, Mister Fontaine seems to try and hide the fact he actually likes the child, but is decidedly softer with the boy. I shall update as my observations continue._

* * *

  
“What was the thing I told ya’, kid? Don’t make this a habit? Think it was something along those lines.”  
  
Frank narrowed his eyes at the kid who was standing at the foot of his desk, peering over the top of it with those hauntingly similar eyes.  
  
Like always, Clayton found him and now that him found he… it didn’t look like he was going to go anywhere any time soon. Frank didn’t like the kid wandering around the Futuristics building looking for him, just in case he came across something he shouldn’t. Like the test subject, but they were kept safely away in the labs. No way the kid could get there.  
  
He _hoped_ the kid couldn’t get there at least.  
  
Clayton was a tricky little bastard. He’d also become quite confident recently, which was good. He should at least feel good about himself, first step towards an indestructible ego. That didn’t mean Fontaine appreciated his time being wasted by annoying visits of kid he could… tolerate.  
  
 _Shouldn’t of been nice to him_ , he scolded himself. _You brought this on yaself, mook, now ya’ gotta deal with the consequences of being nice. Hope ya happy._  
  
He was, in fact, not happy. Not happy at all.  
  
The teleport plasmid was proving to be a bigger headache than he’d like and Sinclair was running out of test subjects for Suchong and Tenenbaum to play with. Not to mention Ryan was breathing down his neck constantly and his man Sullivan was getting a little too close for comfort. Then Limey was in a good mood and that was never a good thing. To finally top off this list of all things that could go wrong and were causing him a headache, Sofia Lamb was causing more trouble than she was worth.  
  
Fontaine sorely hoped that Ryan would deal with her soon because he was getting tired of idiots laying down tools and refusing to work.  
  
“I ain’t got time kid,” he hissed, intending to sound as cruel as possible. “You best stop coming round here. I told you not to make it a habit and….” He trailed off as wordlessly the kid placed a brightly coloured paper bag on his desk.  
  
He hadn’t seen a bag like that since he was a kid. Usually he saw them in other kid’s hands and could only dream of having them in his own. It was a sweets bag. The bright white and pink paper with the Rapture logo on the front declaring that Rapture Candy was the best in the city. You’d hope it was considering it was the only sweet store in this aquarium.  
  
Still, Frank was confused. Why was Clayton showing him this it made no sense… and he didn’t have time, energy or care to give a damn right now about it.  
  
Before he could yell at the kid, Clayton spoke first.  
  
“You seemed sad or angry…” the kid pushed the paper bag towards him. “I thought sweets would make you feel better. Make me feel better.”  
  
Oh. It was a gift. For him?  
  
“You’ve got too big a heart, kid…” Fontaine mumbled staring at the bag like it was a bomb that might explode in his face.  
  
Clayton giggled. “You’re silly, Mister Fontaine. There’s no such thing as a too big heart,” he smiled at him. “Everyone’s hearts are the right size for their bodies. I read it in my anatomy book.”  
  
“Not what… ya know what forget it,” he waved his hand. Kids were always so damn literal, he forgot about that. “Just… forget it,” he gestured to the sweets. “Ya can take your sweets.”  
  
“No, they’re for you.”  
  
“Kid-!”  
  
Clayton took his hand and grabbed the paper bag, placing it in his open palm, before pushing his fingers closed. “They’re for you. It’s a thank you for helping me. Mama said you should always say thank you when someone helps you,” he beamed at him. “I picked out all the best ones! Well, the ones I think are the best…” he glanced at the door. “I should go before Mama worries… bye Mister Fontaine!”  
  
Before Frank could protest or grab him, the kid was out the door.  
  
Jesus… kids were quick. Was he ever that quick when he was Clayton’s age? He didn’t feel like he was.  
  
He looked down at the bag of sweets in his hand. He had half a mind to throw them away, he wasn’t a little kid. Sure he’d occasionally drop by when Em was working and give the kid some sherbet, but that was mostly to keep him entertained and away from him. That wasn’t the only reason. It also put Em in a better mood if she saw him be nice to her son.  
  
Jesus the first time he knew she’d spotted him he’d almost felt embarrassed, but shame was not an emotion that Fontaine was privy to feeling so he certainly wasn’t about to feel it then. Instead he’d stood tall and shrugged, saying that the kid had been well behaved and Suchong had said something about positive reinforcement. Em had dismissed it entirely, he could tell by the look on her face, needless to say… she did get more work done that day. So he continued and she again seemed to do better work, not that her work was bad to begin with. No, it certainly wasn’t, but she seemed to make more of an effort to get things done after he’d been nice to her son.  
  
Frank glanced at the bin by his desk, his hand hovered over it for a moment, but damn it all he was too curious. Sighing, Fontaine opened the bag and looked inside. What he expected. A bunch of sugary sweets that were guaranteed to rot your teeth before you were thirty. Sugar mice, jelly babies, cola cubes, chocolate and flying saucers. Frank idly wondered if Clayton even knew what a sugar mouse was based off. Kid had probably never seen a mouse in his life.  
  
Still, they were all just stupid kids sweets. He snorted and closed the paper bag up, about to drop it into the bin again and paused.  
  
Well… he had been in a bad mood right?  
  
He took one of the sugar mice out, held it up to examine it, before bitting the head off.  
  
“Fuckin’ christ!” He seethed, almost spitting it back out again. Jesus that was nothing but.. well, sugar. Name kinda gave it away but Jesus Christ. How did he eat these as a kid!? The sugar mice had always been his favourite, but now as an adult… he couldn’t imagine stuffing his face with them. Felt like his teeth were disintegrating just from one bite.  
  
Okay, now he was going to put them in the garbage. Best sweets of Rapture? Only if you wanted to not have any teeth by the time you were thirty.  
  
“Did you like them?”  
  
“Jesus!” Frank yelled, placing a hand to his chest and glaring pointedly at the little blonde boy staring at him with hopeful eyes. “Fuck, kid! Don’t sneak up on people like that, ya tryna’ give me a heart attack!?”  
  
“I’m sorry… I just wanted-.”  
  
“I don’t like sweets.”  
  
“Oh…” Clayton’s face fell. “Well, I could get you-.”  
  
“I don’t want anything!” Frank seethed, standing up behind his desk. “I told you to leave me alone, ya little snot nosed brat! I fucking meant it!”  
  
“I’m really sorry, Mister Fon-.”  
  
“Get out!”  
  
Clayton’s lip trembled, his eyes were big and glassy. His whole body was beginning to tremble as sobs started to whack at his small frame.  
  
Frank felt a tug in his gut, but he ignored it. Instead he made it worse, like he always did.  
  
“Oh, are ya gonna cry now ya big baby?” He rolled his eyes. “Oh boohoo someone yelled at me,” he mocked him, fully aware at how childish he sounded. “Grow a back bone kid!”  
  
“You’re mean!” Clayton yelled back, looking startled at his own raised voice. Tears streaming freely down his face now.  
  
“Yeah? Guess what? Everyone is!” He hissed. “Everyone’s mean! Everyone’s nasty!”  
  
“You’re wrong! Mama’s not mean!”  
  
Frank laughed. “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you say that when she finally gets sick of ya and throws you away like the little orphan garbage you are!”  
  
It was a low blow. Frank even winced internally as he said it. He hadn’t meant it. He’d gone too far with that one. It was cruel, even for him. Unfortunately… he wasn’t a man who took back what he said, never had been, never would be. He’d just plow on through. It was his nature.  
  
“You’re lying!” The little boy sobbed. “Mama wouldn’t… she _wouldn’t_!”  
  
“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” He laughed, his inner monolog screamed at him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He rarely did. “She ain’t even ya’ real Ma! Ya real Ma threw you away! She knew how worthless you were the moment you-“  
  
“Just because your Mama didn’t love you doesn’t mean you can be mean to me!” Clayton screamed at him. “You’re just jealous!”  
  
“J-Jealous?!” Frank hated that he stuttered but the kid had touched a nerve. “The hell you talking-?”  
  
“You’re just jealous because my Mama loves me and yours never did!” Clayton puffed his little chest out looking determined, but there was a hint or cruelty to it that Frank knew all too well. “My Mama chose me, but yours was stuck with you! She never loved you! Who could love someone as horrible as you!”  
  
Still crying, the little boy slammed the door shut and Fontaine heard him run away.  
  
Frank sank down in his seat, his head was reeling from what had happened. How had it gotten so out of control and what the hell was wrong with him? He should’ve just dropped it. He should’ve.. what did that little bastard know anyway, he didn’t know anything. He was clueless!  
  
Maybe this would be a blessing in disguise and the kid would finally, finally leave him alone.  
  
Fontaine however, found himself putting the bag of sweets in his desk. Taking out more documents and began to look through the new advertisements. He ignored the uneasy feeling that hadn’t left him since Clayton had screamed at him or maybe it had been there the entire time he was cruel to the kid. He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t meant it, but wether he meant it or not was of little consequence. The boy no doubt would hate him now and Frank couldn’t blame. If someone spoke like that to him at Clayton’s age, he’d hate them too.  
  
Burying himself in the tricky words and bright colours of new advertisements, Fontaine ignored the feeling that was creepy through him. He was too proud to admit to feeling anything along the lines of shame and guilt, even to himself. There was, however, no other words you could use to describe the emotions he was feeling, but that didn’t meant he was going to admit them to himself.  
  
Clayton had been right after all. His own mother hadn’t loved him. He’d chalk up the boys accusations to nothing but childish name calling, but the kid was too smart for that. Maybe a little naive, but never stupid. There’d also been that cruelty in the boys eyes when he’d said those final icy words. A cruelty of a person who’d been hurt and knew just how to hurt others back. It was a cruelty familiar to Fontaine, because he saw it in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror.  
  
Hell hath no fury than a woman’s scorn and don’t kick a man when he’s down, all little sayings that were also subtle warnings. Frank felt like they missed one out on that list. A child’s scorn was a far deadlier thing than any adults angry screams, simply because, kids didn’t know when to quit. They could also be creative little bastards when it came to hurting you back.  
  
Adults often treated children as little tiny beings of innocence. Frank knew kids were some of the cruelest individuals you’d ever meet. People often protected them with lines like ‘oh they don’t know any better’ or ‘boys will be boys’, nice little excuses that would spare a child of punishment. Kids could get away with murder if they were young enough and an excuse was there for them to use. They don’t know any better. The meanest kids in the world always knew better, they just didn’t care.  
  
“Every evil bastard in the world was a kid at some point,” he mumbled quietly to himself.  
  
Yeah, there was nothing quite as scary as an angry kid. Because an angry kid became an angry adult and finally a _monster_.

* * *

  
LaLorna stood in front of the great selection of Plasmids and Tonics, mulling over which one she should use.  
  
On the shelves the liquids glowed and shimmered with power. Electricity crackled in a few, others where warm to the touch and seemed to contain the power of the sun inside them. There was just so much to chose from.  
  
The Tonics weren’t quite as spectacular, but what they could do? Now that was simply ingenious. Grow more hair, make your smile prettier… anything and everything. The list was endless so long as you got the right stuff. She’d heard that Ava Tate had been making her own version of the stuff, but this did not interest LaLorna. Why should she pay for a cheap knock off when the real thing would be so much better. Not to mention Mister Fontaine’s products were probably safer. They’d have to be.  
  
Reaching out with her gloved finger tips she picked up one of the tonics, guaranteed to brighten your smile. She had a nice smile as it was, but she didn’t just want nice, she wanted stunning. She wanted a smile that you would notice, but what else could she improve?  
  
Thankfully, in all of the stores that sold the tonics, small mirrors were located. It was to help the buyer decide what they wanted to buy. You looked at yourself in the mirror and looked for what you wanted to correct about yourself. Around her many men and women were doing the exact same thing. Picking up tonics and looking over themselves in the mirrors.  
  
Maybe she could make her eyes just that little bit bigger and brighter? It seemed like the right idea.  
  
Laughter brought her out of her judging world and she turned to find Ada standing next to her, looking over some of the tonics herself.  
  
Ada was dressed in a simple suit dress, nothing too fancy, with a belt that pulled in her waist. Her hair was pulled up out of her face and an elegant string of pearls rested around her neck.  
  
LaLorna raised an eyebrow and snorted. “You look so plane, Ada,” turning back to the tonics she resumed looking through the different products. “One wonders if you should find a tonic that improves taste.”  
  
Ada only smiled. “Well, I’m so glad you don’t think I need to improve on my face,” she frowned a little in mock sympathy. “Never mind, Amélie, I’m sure you’ll find something that will improve on your drab and boring little visage,” she bit her lip a little. “Then again… I don’t think there’s enough tonics and plasmids in Rapture that could fix what’s wrong with you and your personality.”  
  
LaLorna glared at her sharply. “Men hardly seem to care about my personality.”  
  
“So, you mean, they hardly care about you?” Ada placed a hand on her shoulder and LaLorna looked at it in disgust but the other actress didn’t remove it. “I am truly sorry, but… I suppose those men rather dodged a bullet, oh!” She picked up one and handed it to LaLorna. “That should solve everything don’t you think?”  
  
She rose an eyebrow before looking down at the tonic in hand. It was _breast grow_.  
  
Ada cackled as LaLorna slammed the bottle back down looking outraged. Just as the French actress was about to give her a piece of her mind, screams echoed at the front of the shop.  
  
Other shoppers were running away quickly, tripping over each other and shoving each other out of the way, as a man came darting inside. His face was covered in growths and he seemed to be twitching. His fingers sparked with the electro bolt plasmid and his eyes seemed to be glowing with the power.  
  
“I want more! I need more!” He yelled, reaching for the tonics, when one of the store owners got in his way.  
  
“Sir, please. You don’t have enough money, we’ve already turned you away three times today.”  
  
“You don’t understand, I need more!”  
  
“Come back when you have some money.”  
  
The maniac seemed to be a worker from Hephestus and then he looked like he got a bright idea. His fingers crackled and sparked, before anyone could say or do anything he was sending an arch of electricity at the store owner. It struck him square in the chest, his body seized up and began to convulse. His eyes widened, teeth clacked together in a grimace of death while his body convulsed and seized. The surrounding shoppers and workers stared in horror as the lunatic with electrobolt didn’t let up. He continued to send the electricity through the air into the other man, who’s skin began to crackle and melt. Those who’d dare to look at his face would see that his eyeballs had already melted and fizzled away into nothing. Gradually his skin began to turn black from the burns, his clothes had melted to his skin until now you couldn’t tell where the skin ended and the clothes began.  
  
A gun shot rang out and the electrobolt user shrieked, stopping his electricity and the man’s charred body collapsed to the floor. Ryan’s Security chased the murder out of the store. Screams and yells could be heard. A few more crackles and flashes of electricity could be seen and heard, followed by the tell tale sounds of gun fire.  
  
“My god…” Ada mumbled, turning back to LaLorna with a grin. “That was simply _thrilling_!”  
  
LaLorna raised an eyebrow before looking at the body on the floor like many others. “Not for him it wasn’t.”  
  
“Oh yes…” Ada pouted, looking down at the body. “That’s a shame. Such a senseless waste of human life and all that,” she waved her hand around airily. “But truly, that was amazing! Such art! Beauty and horror all in one glorious package- ah, I need to paint this before Cohen gets wind of it.”  
  
Ada went dashing out of the shop, muttering something along the lines of Cohen stealing her artistic vision.  
  
LaLorna glared after her before turning her attention back to the shelves. She pursed her lips a moment thinking.  
  
She ended up leaving with the breast grow.

* * *

  
_Amélie LaLorna_   
  
_Some recognition:_   
  
_What do I have to do to get some front page recognition? The Tribune fills up with drivel on Cohen, Ava Tate, even the limey Culpepper gets more of a look in… but the great LaLorna? Nothing! Do these people not know real talent when they see it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter 
> 
> Also I missed someone's comment, I was gonna reply to them and say thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the rest of these chapters and what's to come... it's gonna get a hell of lot crazy!


	25. If I Didn't Care

_Katherine ‘Limey’ Michaels_   
  
_Shaking things up:_   
  
_Emilie has shaken up the two men in my life once more. Though this time not because of something she’d done, more something she’s found. A boy. I will admit the child has a striking resemblance to Francis when he was younger, I… dear god it was terrifying. We can’t get attached. That’s the first rule of any con. Don’t get attached._

* * *

  
Emilie had a hard time keeping up with her son. He was bouncing around excitedly while they walked towards ‘Rapture on Ice’, the famed ice rink in Fontaine’s Department Store. It was his birthday present and he hadn’t stopped jumping around since she told him.  
  
She was glad to be out of the house and be done with that damn lock system for Ryan. That had taken over half a year to complete, but he had been impressed with the results. She’d gotten a pay rise which suited her just fine and now here they are. The little pay rise meant she could take her son ice skating like she’d planned. Hopefully with it been October the place wouldn’t be so busy.  
  
The year was 1955 and she couldn’t believe time had gone by so fast. Now she had a little seven year old who was excitedly jumping around her feet.  
  
It was good to see him happy again. Over the past few months Clayton hadn’t been quite himself. He’d stopped going with her to the Futuristics building and the watch he used to wear everyday was strangely absent from his wrist. He still had it, Clayton kept it hidden away in a little box, but he didn’t wear it. He’d also stopped going on about Fontaine, which she wasn’t complaining about.  
  
What had surprised her was Fontaine had noticed Clayton’s absence and asked about him. She’d said he just didn’t want to come to the building anymore, that was it. She didn’t think that was completely the whole reason, but well it seemed to strike Fontaine as being an odd occurrence. Though, she also noted, that he didn’t seem that surprised either.  
  
Walking up to the counter of the ice rink, she was correct in her assumption that the place was quiet. The ice rink got busier the closer they approached Christmas.  
  
“One adult and one child, please,” she glanced down at Clayton while rifling through her purse. He was standing on his tip toes staring at all the ice skates with big eyes.  
  
The man at the desk stared at her for a moment. “Are you Ms Lokken?”  
  
“Yes…?” She rose an eyebrow at him.  
  
He nodded and placed in the amount, “That’ll be ten dollars.”  
  
She paused and looked up at him with a frown. “Shouldn’t it be fifteen? I have to pay for my son as well.”  
  
The man behind the desk, she noted, looked scared. Wide eyed and staring at her for being caught out, but what didn’t make sense was the price. She’d expect him to look like that if he’d increased the price and she’d noticed, but to look like that for taking the price down… didn’t make any sense. Also.. how did he know her name?  
  
“It’s on the house, Ms Lokken,” he bent down a moment, pulling out a gift wrapped present, leaning over the desk to hand it to Clayton. “And I was under strict instructions to give this to you, young sir,” he straightened as Clayton held the box in his hands, blinking up at the man in confusion. The man smiled at him though it was tight, turning his attention back to Em. “I’ll just grab your skates now, Ms.”  
  
As he walked away Em and Clayton looked up at each other. They both looked equally as confused, before she nodded to the box.  
  
“Go on then. Who’s it from?”  
  
Clayton looked over the box, before looking back up at her with big eyes. “There’s no name tag.”  
  
“Hm. Odd…” she glanced back at the man as he came over with the ice skates. “Excuse me? Who left this for my son? There’s no name tag…”  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he smiled at her again, still tight, still held an element of fear to it. “Your skates, Ms.”  
  
“Wait, hold on a second!” She said sternly. “You only charge for my ticket and you hand my son a birthday present? Would I be correct in understanding that the same person put you up to both of these things?” Her eyes narrowed. “Who was it?”  
  
“Oh wow!”  
  
She looked down at Clayton’s cry of joy. He’d opened the box and sat perfectly where two books… about the surface. He was thrilled, the grin was splitting his face, you didn’t see books like that in Rapture. They were taboo because they painted the surface in a good light and Ryan didn’t want to… disillusion any young minds of the horrors of the surface.  
  
Clayton, however, looked like the cat who got the canary. He was curious about the surface, always had been since he’d seen a few images of Norway in their home. Still, he only spoke to her about his curiosities of the surface, no one else. She was certain of it so who…?  
  
“Do you know who it’s from…?” She asked softly. “Those books look very nice.” _Very expensive too._  
  
Clayton frowned a second, looking thoughtful and his eyes widened in realisation. He knew who it was and he looked both happy and surprised. Running his fingers over the books, a little smile fell across his face.  
  
“He remembered…” he whispered softly.  
  
“Who remembered, Kjære?”  
  
Looking up at her he flashed a toothy grin. “Mister Fontaine, Mama!” He was positively beaming. “Mister Fontaine remembered!” He looked back at the books smiling. “I knew he didn’t mean it.. I knew he didn’t…”  
  
Fontaine? That was… how did he know that she was coming here? He’d done it all in secret obviously, but he had developed a weird relationship with her son. He’d been kind to him on more than one occasion and she’d caught him in the act red handed more than once.  
  
Whatever the reason, in some ways… the extra money that was left meant they could get Clayton’s favourite ice cream afterwards.  
  
“Well,” she began carefully, picking up the ice skates. “That was very… thoughtful of him,” she waved the skates at Clayton and his grin widened. “Lets get skating then and afterwards we can grab some ice cream… or a hot chocolate since it’s going to be cold.”  
  
He slid the lid of the box back in place, excitedly taking her hand and following her through to the ice rink.  
  
Just as she’d suspected, the ice rink was practically empty, which was fantastic for them. She’d be able to teach Clayton better here. Back in Norway she’d learnt on a lake round the back of her house. Her and her friends used to go skiing too, but that was impossible here. If someone ever did open up a ski resort, however, she’d be taking Clayton straight away.  
  
Placing the books in her bag and leaving the box on the side, she began to show him how to ice skate. It was good to have these little moments with Clayton. She’d been so busy lately and with him not wanting to go to the Futuristics building she’d seen him less and less. So his birthday she wanted to be extra special.  
  
He fell over quite a bit, she’d catch him sometimes but other times he’d skated so far away from her she couldn’t grab him. Still he’d laugh and giggle, wobble around a lot and fall over. She took her time to show him a few tricks she’d picked up and if she managed to fit in times to show off… well that was between her and him.  
  
She’d missed ice skating. She’d preferred ice skating outside, but that wasn’t option here. You took what you got and by the end of the day, Clayton was skating just as well as her. He’d still slip and fall over, but for the most part he got it.  
  
Emilie hadn’t laughed so much in years. Clayton’s laughter and joy was honestly contagious. Their smiles never left their faces, it meant she could forget for a moment about all the stress she’d been under and was still under. It was perfect.

* * *

  
“You better have good news for me Suchong,” Frank crossed his arms glaring at the Korean. “Because I don’t like my time being wasted.”  
  
“Suchong knows, Mister Fontaine,” Suchong smiled oddly at his employer. It might have been an attempt to look charming but it fell by miles. “Suchong and Tenenbaum have fixed issues with Teleport Plasmid.”  
  
Frank looked pleased. “Yeah? Yous sure about that?”  
  
He was looking forward to not having his cleaning crew clearing away decapitated corpses or blood and guts. The occasional severed limb. It was getting too much for him to sanely cope with and, he kept dodging Sinclair’s questioning looks whenever one of the mugs survived and came back sans an arm or leg.  
  
“No fuck ups? All the kinks worked out?”  
  
Suchong nodded his head looking quite proud. “Yes, this Suchong is very certain of.. all…kinks, as you say, are worked out. No longer a problem, though it is still experimental,” he clasped his hands together. “Product is safe to use.”  
  
Safe. Frank wanted to laugh. They both knew that ‘safe’ was a relative term with plasmids and tonics. They weren’t safe to use, not really. The side effects had been only physical at first, but soon the doctors discovered that thanks to ADAM’s addictive qualities it also caused severe mental damage.  
  
How was it Tenenbaum had put it? ADAM acts like a cancer. It destroyed native cells and replaced them with unstable stem versions, that’s how you could splice your DNA. This, however, was also where the problems began. You needed more and more ADAM just to hold back the tide. Slowly over time or quickly depending on how quick you could get your ADAM, the user would begin to loose their cognitive abilities. It made them irritable and highly volatile. Quick to anger with fire and electricity at their finger tips. Ice had also become a big hit in recent times. A lot of bar men had bought winter blast to create the ice cubes for their drinks.  
  
New problems meant new business opportunities, however and Frank had just the thing. Enrage was new to hit the shelves, a plasmid that would easily turn the tide on any splicer fight. If you got yourself cornered, you just threw this at them and they’d start fighting each other. Apparently the testing hadn’t gone quite so well since the tester had killed the nurse.  
  
Security Bullseye was another one. Since people had started putting up security cameras and by people he meant Ryan, still this plasmid could trick the security. Throw it at your target and instantly all of Ryan’s specialised security would be focused on your enemy and not you. It was a work of art.  
  
The way the skin looked for both of these plasmids was disgusting, but nothing came close to Insect Swarm. Bee hives in your hand. Bees, live killer bees crawling over, into and out of your hand. It was disgusting to watch. Fontaine would find himself sometimes watching out of morbid curiosity, a lot of the users of that plasmid seemed to do the same thing. Almost like they couldn’t quite comprehend that they had a beehive in the palm of their hand.  
  
Frank had seen a few people splice heavily on the one plasmid and the mutations were awful, but he secretly hoped that no one would over indulge in insect swarm. He had no desire to watch bees crawl in and out of someone’s face, he liked his lunch staying in his stomach.  
  
“So… Teleport’s ready?” He grinned. “Good. Not gonna let it hit the shelves just yet…I know this one will rile up Ryan even more than a few of the others.”  
  
The idea of pissing Ryan off even more than he already was easily put him in a much better mood. You had to enjoy a few of life’s joys and irritating Ryan was one of Frank’s favourites. It was just so easy to rub the man up the wrong way and make him dance to whatever tune he wanted.  
  
“Mister Fontaine?” Suchong looked nervous for a moment. “There is another problem. It needs to be addressed urgently. It’s to do with plasmid and tonic production.”  
  
Fontaine frowned. “Yeah? What is it? Ya’ hit a snag?”  
  
Suchong opened his mouth to say something when the door to the lab opened and Kelly stuck her head in. She looked nervous and unsure. Frank remembered that Kelly didn’t like coming down to the labs. She’d mentioned in their many midnight rendezvous that the labs scared her a little and she didn’t like how Suchong looked at her. He could understand that. Suchong’s gaze was ice cold and he always looked like he was imagining you going through some sort of horrific experiment.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt,” she glanced around the room a second, before looking back at Fontaine. “Sinclair is here. He says he’s got some business to discuss… says it’s urgent.”  
  
Frank frowned slightly. What the hell could Sinclair want?  
  
“Alright. Tell him just to wait a moment would you?”  
  
“Yes Mister Fontaine.”  
  
“Thanks Kelly,” he turned back to Suchong as she disappeared. “What was it you were trying to tell me?”  
  
Suchong waved his hand slightly. “It’ll keep. Not so urgent, Suchong has decided.”  
  
“Right…” Fontaine frowned. “Get those teleport plasmids bottled up, ya hear me? I’ve already got a mind for a few buyers.”  
  
Frank disappeared from the labs and walked towards his office. He was a little on edge with Sinclair being here. It didn’t make much sense to him, everything was running smoothly as far as we was aware. Sinclair hadn’t suddenly gone and grown a conscious on him had he? That would be irritating, he was a valuable asset in his enterprise.  
  
He walked into his office and froze slightly at the sight of Sinclair. The man didn’t look happy.  
  
“Augustus..?” He started almost hesitantly, closing the door behind him. “Wasn’t expectin’ you.”  
  
“No I imagine you weren’t son,” he narrowed his eyes at him as Frank glared back. “But we need to talk.”  
  
That didn’t bode well.  
  
Frank walked towards his desk, pushing past Sinclair and his angry glare. He looked to be seething, smelt ever so slightly of smoke and not the cigarette kind.  
  
“What can I do for you?” Frank forced the cheeriness to his tone, taking a seat behind his desk while Augusts stood directly in front of him. Wasn’t even motioning to take the seat opposite Fontaine.  
  
“I’ll cut to the chase, son,” Augustus snarled. “You’re sending back folks addicted to ADAM. Addicted, Frank!”  
  
“We’re experimenting on them, so yeah?” He frowned at him. “Of course they are. What were you expectin’? Don’t play stupid with me, Augustus, you knew what you were getting in to-.”  
  
Sinclair interrupted him by slamming his hands down on the table. The man was livid. “You don’t seem to understand, Frank,” he grit out between his teeth. “Not only are those crazy bastards addicted to the stuff, but some of the lucky stiffs happen to still be cooking with gas!” He leaned across the desk looking a little manic for a moment. Frank almost wondered if Sinclair had started taking plasmids with how insane he looked. “In fact, they’re so fired up… that they’re setting things on fire! You handed me back maniacs with weapons, Frank! Weapons! Only problem is, I can’t have these weapons confiscated!”  
  
Frank shrugged a little. “Not my problem.”  
  
“I’ll damn well make it your problem, if I have to!” He yelled. “I’d like to see how far you’d get in your little experiments without test subjects!”  
  
Fontaine stood up, leaning across the table himself, a snarl on his face. “You threatenin’ me, Sinclair?”  
  
“I’m sorry was I bein’ too subtle?” Sinclair growled, pointing in the general direction of Persephone he yelled at him. “I just had to call the fire services to put out a goddamn blaze! Funnily enough, the only fire service available in Rapture happens to be _your_ fire service!”  
  
Frank smirked. “Well Fontaine’s Fire Department was more than happy to help, I’m sure. I’ll expect good feedback on our officiant and friendly services.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll be more than happy to give you feedback!” Sinclair snapped. “This partnership isn’t going to work if you keep sending back crazies with EVE still running through their system! It’s bad enough that Ryan’s locking away some of the yahoos running around Rapture in my place, at least they’re burnt out! You sent me back men with EVE still in them!”  
  
“Blame it on the kraut and the slant!” Frank snapped, gesturing towards the door. “It’s their responsibility, don’t go harpin’ at me!”  
  
Sinclair leaned back, taking a moment to calm down. He wasn’t the type for angry words, not like this at least, but he’d just escaped a fire that could’ve wiped out his entire facility. Fontaine wasn’t taking the proper precautions that Sinclair thought he should be. If anything, Frank seemed to have become a little sloppy recently. Well, someone had to tell him.  
  
“You’re losing your touch, Frank,” he bit out, crossing his arms. “You used to leave no stone unturned, crossed ya ’T’s and dotted ya ‘I’s. You’ve gotten sloppy, Chief and that’s something I can’t afford.”  
  
“Then you can say goodbye to your extra income from plasmids too,” Frank bit out. “Because I won’t be sellin’ ya anymore ADAM for Sinclair Solutions to play around with. You can be sure of that.”  
  
“They’re some of my most sort after products!”  
  
“Not my problem, Sinclair,” he crossed his arms. “You do business with me, ya’ gotta remembered that I’m the one pullin’ the strings. Besides, I don’t need you as much as you think I do,” he sat down, resting his chin on his hands looking Sinclair over, a cruel smile curled up his face as he laughed softly. “Hell, we didn’t even use your supply of subjects with the first lot of testing. Those two psychopaths out there just brought people off the street.”  
  
“And how well do you think that’s going to work out now, since Ryan’s beating you to the punch?” Sinclair crossed his arms glaring at him. “He’s starting to make people disappear.”  
  
Fontaine paused a moment, looking up at Sinclair and raising an eyebrow. The man looked a little on edge, though Fontaine couldn’t be sure what he was on edge about. It couldn’t be the fact that Ryan was actively locking people up, could it? No, that didn’t seem like Augustus at all. Then again, the man did have a ghost of a conscious about him, if you knew where to look.  
  
Frank did too, he had a conscious when it suited him, the situation with Clayton was evidence of that.  
  
At the thought of the boy, Fontaine visibly softened somewhat. It was something he was barely aware of now, at first he’d notice straight away whenever he’d loose his sharp edges. Now, however, the lines were getting blurry. He’d catch himself and other times he wouldn’t.  
  
Clayton hadn’t been around for a while now. Over half a year and Frank hadn’t heard or seen a peep of him. Unsurprising considering how their last interaction ended, but damn it all, as much as he was loath to admit it, Frank actually missed the kid. Clayton was funny and there was an innocence to him that drew you in. His enthusiasm was contagious, even for a guy like Fontaine. Also, Fontaine found the boy curious. To say the kid had endured hardships and grew up in the most selfish place on earth… Clayton noticeably was not. He was the kindest, most selfless kid, Frank had ever met. Granted that wasn’t a long list, but Clayton topped it without a doubt.  
  
Maybe it was that innocence and kindness that drew Frank in. Clayton was just good and honest because that’s who he was. Sure he had moments, everyone did, but the kid was just a good person. Fontaine had never believed in anyone being a good person. People always had a reason for doing the right thing, whether it was to get ahead or to earn someones trust, there was always a reason. Clayton’s only reason for doing the right thing, was simply because he was a good kid.  
  
He was a miracle in Rapture.  
  
“When you say… Ryan’s making people disappear…?”  
  
“I’m saying he’s grabbing whoever he believes is a threat to this sinkin’ pile of trash and throwing them to me, so I have to deal with them,” Sinclair rubbed his face, suddenly looking tired. “Frank, just for the love of god, will ya stop sending guys back fully charged? I can’t afford it and neither can you,” he gave him a pointed look. “Too much bad publicity and all that.”  
  
“Now you have a point there, Augustus,” he said quietly, looking down at his desk. “If he’s making people disappear… does that mean he’s finally going to deal with Lamb?”  
  
Sinclair shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but between you and me, I hope so,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “That woman is becoming more trouble than she’s worth.”  
  
“That’s not a new thing.. she’s been like that for a while,” Fontaine pointed out.  
  
He would be very happy when Lamb disappeared. She wasn’t just a thorn in Ryan’s side after all. She was starting to even weed her way into his men. He couldn’t have that.

* * *

  
“Mama, did you ever see a polar bear?”  
  
Emilie laughed, shaking her head. “No, no I never saw a polar bear,” she watched as he quickly held up the book and pointed at the painted image of a polar bear in the snow.  
  
“But they’re in the snow?” He pointed at it with his finger. “You said Norway was in the snow too?”  
  
“Yes, but there are no polar bears where I lived. I was too far south,” she smiled softly. “Polar bears live further up north in Norway,” she ran her fingers through his curls. “Do you like the polar bears?”  
  
“They look big and scary.”  
  
“They’re just animals, Kjære,” she looked over the image. “Sure they’re big, but if you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. Most animals are more scared of people than we are of them.”  
  
People in Em’s opinion were far scarier than any animal or bird. Animals didn’t blow each other up because they held a difference in opinion.  
  
They were back home now, sitting quietly on the sofa while Clayton looked through his new books. This birthday had been just the two of them, but they’d made the most of it. A few of her friends had already handed her the presents before hand. Clayton’s new tool kit she bought him sat neatly on his side of the living room, on the table that he used as a work bench. He’d been using it earlier, but now he was looking through his books.  
  
She was still shocked that it had been Fontaine that bought them. Well, at least that was what Clayton had said. How he knew she wasn’t too sure and she also noticed that this evening the watch was back on his wrist. Em thought she knew who it was that gave it to her son now. It had been Fontaine, but why? Wasn’t like Fontaine made a habit of interacting with kids, though it seemed for Clayton he made the exception. She wasn’t sure she liked that.  
  
Still he was happy and whilst at the time she’d been angry that Fontaine had also paid for the ice skating ticket, it meant that Clayton and herself could grab a hot chocolate afterwards.  
  
A knock at the door made them both jump. They weren’t expecting anyone.  
  
Em got up and opened the door only to find Kyburz standing outside, dressed in a nice suit, a smile on his face. He looked a little nervous though.  
  
She rose an eyebrow at him. “Hey Kyburz, you good?”  
  
“I’m fine, Em,” he smiled back at her.  
  
“Uncle Kyburz, Uncle Kyburz!” Clayton ran over, still carrying his book and held it up for him to see. “Look what Mister Fontaine got me! Books about the surface, they’re so cool!”  
  
Kyburz blinked looking surprised. “Fontaine? Frank Fontaine?”  
  
“Yeah!” Clayton beamed with pride. “Mister Fontaine got me them as my birthday present!” He stared down at the book fondly. “I knew he didn’t mean it… I can’t wait to see him again, I’ve missed him.”  
  
Kyburz raised an eyebrow at Em who shrugged. She was just as confused as he was.  
  
“Well,” Kyburz started, though she could tell the cheerfulness was forced. “That was nice of him.”  
  
Clayton narrowed his eyes a moment. “You don’t like Mister Fontaine, do you?”  
  
Kyburz looked a little caught off guard, but Em wasn’t surprised. Clayton was perceptive and a lot more aware than what people gave him credit for. He could read people like a book. Sometimes it was a little unnerving just how well he could read people. There were moments where it felt like you couldn’t keep any secrets from him. He was also a highly intelligent little boy. The books he had were for adults and he was reading them just fine, only having some problems with a few words he’d never seen before.  
  
Emilie thought she should’ve realised how intelligent he was after he learnt Norwegian as fast as he did. The moment she finally realised that Clayton was far smarter than any other boy his age came with the lessons. She was teaching him, home schooling him since none of the schools in Rapture were her cup of tea and he flew through the lessons. It seemed once you gave him a chance he was lining up to be one of the most brilliant minds in Rapture. Better than her by miles. It was scary as much as it was impressive. She often worried how he’d fit in, because as brilliant as he was, he didn’t have a lot of child friends.  
  
Clayton struggled mixing with kids his age, he claimed they were too slow and just didn’t keep up with him. Eleanor Lamb was the exception and the two had become good friends, until her mother found out of course. Heaven forbid Sofia actually let her child be a child.  
  
Kyburz rubbed the back of his neck a moment. “Ah, well… no. I can’t say I do.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Some people just don’t get along, Kjære,” Em butted in, saving Kyburz trying to explain himself.  
  
He threw her a grateful look and she smiled in return, but Clayton wasn’t done apparently.  
  
“Is it because he likes my Mama like you do?”  
  
“What?!” Kyburz and Em blanched at the same time, staring at Clayton who shrugged a little.  
  
“You like my Mama. Mister Fontaine likes my Mama,” the boy paused a second. “My Mama’s a nice and good person so I can see why you and Mister Fontaine do.”  
  
Kyburz blinked a few times. “Yes… your mum and me are good _friends_ ,” he said, stressing the friends part. “And I think you might have your lines crossed about Fontaine. He doesn’t like anyone.”  
  
“He does,” Clayton argued, looking down at his book fondly. “He just has a funny way of showing it.”  
  
“Understatement of the year,” Em mumbled under her breath. “Why are you here, Kyburz? Some trouble?” She looked at his suit and raised an eyebrow. “Dating advice?”  
  
“What?” He blinked and looked at the suit. “Oh! No, no,” he slipped a hand in his pocket and produced three tickets. “I came here to give Clayton his birthday present. Three tickets for the Rapture Circus. I got the tickets for the show tonight, I’d wrap up warm though… it’s cold this time of night.”  
  
Clayton was bouncing on his toes. “I’m going to get my new jumper! Thank you, thank you so much Uncle Kyburz!” He hugged his legs excitedly before darting inside.  
  
Emilie laughed. Kids really did one eighties on you, hell sometimes they did entire three hundred and sixties. They were funny like that and since raising her own she noticed it more and more. Children seemed to look at things very literal, but Clayton was getting a better hand at sarcasm, but he was also still very literal. Sarcasm had taken him a while to get, which she’d found a little strange considering how smart he was, but he had a better understanding of it now.  
  
“Thank you,” she said to Kyburz. “You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
“What and miss out on my favourite nephews birthday?” He raised an eyebrow flashing a grin. “Not a chance.”  
  
“He’s your only nephew, Kyburz,” she laughed, grabbing her coat and slipping it on.  
  
“Which automatically makes him my favourite,” he shrugged. “Besides, who doesn’t enjoy the circus?”  
  
They ended up taking the bathysphere to the circus. It was located in the middle of Fontaine’s Department Store. They paid Fontaine for the space and ended up taking up an entire floor. The little shops around the sides got turned into make shift homes and offices for the circus performers. A few of the stores had stayed as stores and sold cotton candy, popcorn and hot dogs. A few souvenir shops were also dotted around as well as balloons.  
  
The main centre of the floor had been decorated like a big top from the surface. Red and white pieces of fabric tumbled down, around the edges were seats for the visitors with strings of lights dangling around and looping around the make shift big top.  
  
It was impressive and very busy, the Rapture Circus seemed to be thriving. From what Em remembered it hadn’t been doing too well at first, but gradually it started to pick up and now it looked like they had a full house.  
  
ADAM had a big part to play on that. The stunts had gotten more and more daring thanks to the genetic enhancements. From what she knew they had acrobats and a set of conjoined twins… even an.. ice thrower. Since plasmids, their knife thrower had scrapped the silverware and gone for throwing ice. It was impressive since all anyone in Rapture used the winter blast plasmid for was making ice cubes to put in drinks.  
  
They took their seats, Clayton sitting in the middle of them eating some cotton candy, while Em and Kyburz shared a box of popcorn between them. Clayton hadn’t stopped buzzing in his seat, eyes trained on the stage and eagerly waiting for the performance to begin.  
  
Eventually the lights around the area dimmed and a single spotlight illuminated the floor and there stood Alfred Galileo, the owner of the circus. The ringmaster. He was a tallish man with a slight rotund figure, a red coat decorated his person, top hat adorned his head. He held a cane in one hand, gesturing wildly with the other. His face was decorated with make up and he had an elegantly curled moustache and a goatee was cut into a triangle on his chin. He beamed at the crowd and bowed a little while the audience began clapping.  
  
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” He called out, there was a slight lips to his speech, but that just added to his character. “Boys and girls of all ages! Are magnificent circus asks you to forget the lies of limitations society forces on you and to embrace the diversity of the unlimited and the extreme! Here, you will see stunts of epic proportions. Unlike any ever seen on earth,” he gestured to the opening of the stage. “Allow me to introduce… the performers!”  
  
The band of circus performers came running out, their costumes brightly coloured and sequinned, a few even had feathers. Acrobats, strong men, the conjoined twins, the knife thrower… it was all bright and colourful. It made you forget you were in Rapture for a few precious moments. Suddenly you were in a land of make believe.  
  
The show began and you could instantly tell the performers were using tonics to enhance themselves. None of the stunts they were doing would be possible otherwise. That didn’t take away from the show, however, because you were able to see proper athletes use the enhancing wonder drug to its full potential. Watch the flips and somersaults that no other circus alive would dare try because they’d simply be too risky.  
  
Everything had been running smoothly and finally it was the ice thrower.  
  
The lady was strapped to the wheel spread eagle while the man who’d be throwing knives of ice at her took his position. His skin was discoloured, even under the colourful stage lights you could see his skin was tinted a faint blue. Finger tips looked to have an ever permanent coating of ice on them, the strands of his hair around the sides were completely white and it was slowly spreading to the rest of his hair.  
  
The first five throws went perfectly. The blades made of ice, looking more like icicles than actual knives, flew in straight lines hitting the spaces between the woman’s arms and legs. After every throw the crowd would cheer and clap. The sixth throw skimmed the woman’s side, she grimaced and glared at him angrily.  
  
“Watch it!”  
  
“If you’d quit squirming,” the knife thrower snarled back at her, flexing his fingers and producing another icicle.  
  
“Well maybe if you were actually good at what you do, I wouldn’t have to doge!”  
  
The audience laughed, Em and Kyburz along with them, joking that it sounded like them when they argued. They all believed it was part of the act, even when the ice thrower held a face of thunder, everyone simply believed he was acting. Playing his part. They stopped thinking it was an act when he through the seventh blade of ice and struck the woman right in the chest.  
  
The silence that filled the seats was deafening. They stared in shock and horror, watching with morbid fascination as the woman twitched, staring at the icicle sticking out of their abdomen. Her face held a look of abject horror as the ice slowly began to spread and creep along her body, speeding up the more hold it got on her figure. She screamed before it was cut short as her neck and face became frozen. She’d made a mistake, however, in opening her mouth as it aloud the ice to spread itself inside her.  
  
The knife throwers arm was still extended towards her, a great look of concentration was held on his face. He slowly stood up straight, bringing his hand back and clenched his fist angrily.  
  
The other performers quickly ran over, they undid the straps, but were unable to catch her in time. Not that it would’ve made any difference anyway, it was soon revealed that the ice all over her hadn’t just been an icy shell. She’d been frozen solid, this was quickly realised once she hit the ground and shattered.  
  
Screams erupted, children began to cry, the staff started to direct everyone outside into the waiting halls while Alfred ran to call Ryan’s Security.  
  
It didn’t take long for the security to arrive, Sullivan leading them and soon they were asking questions of all present. As they worked through the statements, they gradually let people leave.  
  
Karlosky came over to Em, Kyburz and Clayton. The little boy was clinging to Em like a life line and she held him close, stroking his hair and whispered comforting words. The Russian looked over at were Sullivan was questioning the circus staff, looking back to Em and shrugging a little.  
  
“Russian circuses are better,” he said. “We don’t make stupid mistakes.”  
  
“Karlosky.”  
  
“What? Is true,” he glanced over at Sullivan. “Should probably interview you two… what happened? From what I’ve heard it sounds like an accident.”  
  
“Wasn’t an accident…” Kyburz mumbled. “You could see it plain on his face he meant to do that. Look at him,” he nodded over to where the knife thrower stood, looking disinterested with the whole thing. He didn’t even look upset over the life he’d just ended. “He doesn’t care. He meant to do it.”  
  
Karlosky shrugged cracking a grin. “Eh, maybe she was a bitch?” His smile left at the glares he was sent. “Alright, my bad. You sure he meant to do it?”  
  
“You could see it in his eyes,” Em said softly. “He had that… same crazy look the splicers get.. when they go off the deep end.”  
  
Karlosky’s frown deepened and he nodded. “Yeah, I know it… seeing it all too often.”  
  
They looked up as Sullivan came walking over to them, the rest of the men had gone inside to collect the body or well pieces of the former performer.  
  
“That’s one cold bastard,” Sullivan mumbled, standing in front of them and looking Kyburz and Em over. “You given statements?”  
  
“Yes, Chief..”  
  
“Alright.. you can go now,” he glanced at the circus before looking back to them. “My advice… don’t come back. The way these guys are splicing…” he trailed off, but he didn’t need to explain further.  
  
Quietly Em and Kyburz walked away, Emilie carrying Clayton and they took the elevator to the bathysphere ports. Kyburz walked them home and she was grateful. They were all shook up from what had happened. Walking up the steps to Em’s apartment, they were surprised to see Ryan’s security there as well. They were removing a body from on of the other apartments. Another plasmid attack by the looks of things. This time, the poor woman who was dead had an entire ice box thrown at her.  
  
As Em settled down for the night, Clayton, hugging his teddy, snuggling up with her because he was scared. She held him tightly, singing some of the few nursery rhymes she remembered from being a girl. She managed to coax him to sleep, but she couldn’t. She was thinking, considering something she’d never thought she’d have to consider in her life. The more random shootings and attacks that were happening though, well, what choice did she have? She had to protect herself and her son, a few measly locks on her door wasn’t going to keep the splicers out forever. Especially if they now started to throw ice boxes.  
  
Emilie pulled her son a little closer and he mumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake up. She was scared, terrified for him, she had to get him out of Pauper’s Drop. It wasn’t safe here anymore, hell she doubted it had ever been safe. Still, in the mean time, while they were still down here and even once they’d moved… she needed something to protect themselves.  
  
For the first time in her life Em was considering getting a gun. She’d have to practice shooting the damn thing and being able to actually hit her target. Maybe she could ask Reggie for help, he was a supposedly good shot, though Em had never seen him shoot at something before. He was a man Emilie trusted though. Knowing how to aim and fire a gun was only half the battle, however, she’d need to actually have the guts to pull the trigger and maybe kill someone.  
  
Could she do that? Could she aim and pull the trigger? Could she end a life with a simple twitch of her finger?  
  
Em glanced down at her son, his peaceful face, soft blonde waves and curls resting softly against his face, obscuring her view of his freckles. Her son. Her precious little boy who’d already seen and dealt with hardships no child his age should have to.  
  
Her resolve hardened. She’d made her decision. To protect her son she’d burn down the whole world, no questions asked. Emilie had already lost her father at the tender age of sixteen, her mother had been dead a long time before that, Clayton was all she had left. No one was going to take him from her, she wouldn’t let a single splicer harm a hair on his head and she wouldn’t let this decaying city steal his innocence. No more than it already had.  
  
“I’m not going to let a single thing happen to you,” she whispered softly to him, even though he was asleep and couldn’t hear her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I’ll never let anything happen to you, I promise,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head. “I promise.”

* * *

  
 _Alfred Galileo,_  
  
 _Accidents happen:_  
  
 _Well… that was a disaster. Oliver missed one of his throws and froze Martha solid. People were screaming, children were crying, it was chaos!_  
  
 _No refunding though, that’s not how we work. Besides it wasn’t like he_ aimed _at her. It was an_ accident _. Accidents happen! Get over it!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you realise you screwed up dates and made ya child character too young so have to quickly alter a few things... hahaha! Yeah, Clayton's meant to be twelve in 1960.... so I screwed up dates, he's seven now!


	26. Pistol Packin' Mama

_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Vices:_   
  
_We all have vices.. even me. A good taste of liquor solves problems talking just wouldn’t. ADAM is no different. Splicers. They’re junkies just like any bastard that shoots themselves up. Ain’t no difference. We all have vices… just these guys vices come with fire and lightning._

* * *

  
Em couldn’t help the wince that appeared on her face when she watched Reggie fire off some shots hitting the target dead between the eyes. The paper target swung a little in the air, almost teasing her with those bullet holes glaring at her. She swore she could almost imagine the blood trickling out of them.   
  
Quietly Reggie reloaded his gun, turning to Em with a smile on his face. He looked pretty proud of his shots and they were impressive, but Em still felt sick. She’d never shot someone, never killed anyone in her life. Sure she’d broken fingers when guys had tried to get a little too handsy with her, but this was something completely different. She was going to end their life with a simple pull of a trigger.   
  
“Ya see, Ms Em?” He gestured to the paper target. “Ya gotta aim before you fire off.”   
  
“Yeah…” she frowned slightly, hugging herself. “Aim. Right.”   
  
“You okay?”  
  
“I…” Em glanced at the paper target again and shuddered. “I’ve never fired a gun before, Reggie.”   
  
Reggie placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. She supposed he was trying to be comforting. “Don’t worry ‘bout embarrassin’ yaself. I was pretty bad at shooting when I first started.”   
  
Emilie stared at him incredulously. “That’s not what I… no, Reggie, I mean I don’t feel comfortable ending someone’s life.”  
  
“Oh,” Reggie rubbed at the back of his head looking a little confused and maybe slightly embarrassed. “Well, if it makes ya feel any better… those splicers ain’t really people anymore. They’re loopy plasmid heads.”  
  
“But they _were_ people.”   
  
“But they ain’t now,” he fixed her with a look. “At the end of the day, Ms Em, it’s going to come down to being either you or them. You gotta be the one firing the first shot so they don’t end up firing the last.”   
  
He handed his gun to her and she reluctantly took it. Walking over and taking her position, Reggie helped her get the right stance, talked about the kickback and how to aim. Informed her not to pull the trigger but squeeze it, stopped the shot going haywire and you had more control over it.   
  
The first few shots missed, her hands were shaking violently and she took unsteady breaths. It felt like her whole body was shaking and she was starting to panic. The gunshots… she remembered those in the war, when the gun turrets were dying off to keep the planes away. That rapid fire, the little popping sounds from a distance, followed by the sounds of bombs destroying more houses and taking more lives…   
  
“Ms Em?” Reggie gently placed a hand over her wrist, pushing her arm down as she squeezed her eyes shoot. She wouldn’t look at him. She felt his large hands rest on her shoulders a moment. “Easy..” He soothed. “Just breath. You ain’t no where near there now. That’s over.”   
  
“Yeah, but is here any better?”   
  
“Only if you make it, Ms Em.”  
  
“You know, Reggie, for a man of very few words, you’re smart with them.”  
  
Reggie laughed softly, reaching forward and getting her arms back in the right position. Steadying her shoulders a second. Her hands were still shaking, however, she could see how violently they shook while she took aim.   
  
“Deep breaths…” Reggie soothed. “Breath in to aim and exhale when ya shoot. It steadies ya’ arm.”  
  
“I.. I can’t do it, Reggie.”   
  
“Yeah you can. Ya’ a tough lady, Ms Em,” he squeezed her shoulders. “You’re a survivor. Ya’ gonna make it, I know you will. Listen… you gotta make that shot,” he leaned down to her ear and whispered quietly. “Just imagine it’s somethin’ really horrible comin’ towards you, but they ain’t here to just hurt you… they’re gonna hurt your kid. They’re gonna hurt Clayton. You’re a Ma, ya ain’t gonna let that happen are ya?”   
  
She sucked in a breath, eyed the target as it swayed almost mocking her. Glaring at it, she raised her gun again, taking aim. Her arms didn’t shake this time. It took her moment to pull the trigger, but then she remembered that young man being blasted by lighting and flying across the room. She remembered the circus performer frozen solid and shattering to tiny pieces, and finally she remembered the lady in the apartment a few floors below her, splattered across her apartment after having an ice box frown at her. Any one of those deaths and more could happen to her son.   
  
With that in mind, she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them, but there was something different to them now. There was a hardness, an edge, maybe even a cruelty.   
  
This time, she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

* * *

  
Kelly raced through Neptune’s Bounty, pulling her coat just that little bit tighter around herself. It was freezing in this lower section of Rapture. As the years went by it felt like the whole city was just getting colder and colder. The winter months didn’t help much. It made the sea surrounding them even colder than before and turned the city into one giant freezer. She wouldn’t be surprised if ice started forming in Neptune’s Bounty. She was positive it was cold enough down here for it.   
  
Stepping round the corner, Kelly approached Fontaine Fisheries. She’d been asked to drop off the pay checks, not something she’d usually do but something had happened to the usual person. Splicer attack she’d heard on the grape vine.   
  
Splicers. Kelly shuddered again and this time it wasn’t from the cold. Those crazy bastards. People who’d over indulged on their plasmids and tonics, slowly began to loose their minds or quickly in some cases. They spliced their DNA so much that in the end they were barely recognisable. She’d seen some of the growths and lesions on the skin of the heavy users, a few had even begun to mutate to resemble the plasmid itself. Those types were getting names. They weren’t just ya common old garden variety splicer, oh no, they were twisted in to something far more grotesque.   
  
Shockers, Burners and Frosties were the most common. Their entire bodies were glowing and covered in marks of the plasmid. The Shockers, high on the electrobolt plasmid, had electricity continuously running through their veins. Their entire body glowed a brilliant bright blue and in some cases their skin looked like it was getting thinner. Burners were, well, just that. Burnt. Too much incinerate and they resembled molten rock more than people. The Frosties were probably the worst. They were tinged blue, but that wasn’t the worst part. The more they used the winter blast plasmid, the more ice would grow over their bodies. Sometimes it would form as ice crystals growing out of the side of their head or on their elbows. Their eyes would glow a pale white and there always seemed to be a cold air surrounding them.   
  
She swore that the Frosties were colder than the Fisheries.   
  
“Evenin’ Miss Christie,” Peach greeted her, grinning wolfishly at her, eyes raking up her body and she scowled at him. “It’s sure good to see you again.”   
  
“In your dreams, Wilkins,” she snapped, tossing his pay check at him. “I don’t want to get any closer to you than I have to,” she held the other pay checks up, “Where do I put these?”   
  
“Why… you could just give them to me,” he held his hand out walking towards her. “I’m a trustworthy sort.”   
  
Kelly snorted, hardly caring about her image right now. “Like hell you are.”   
  
“Well… maybe there could be someway I could persuade ya?” He grinned at her. “Gets awful lonely down here.”  
  
“And it’s gonna stay that way,” she crossed her arms, sighing softly. She knew she was going to have to drop these off in Fontaine’s office down here. “Look just get out of my way,” she made a move to walk towards the door but her blocked her path with his arm. “Wilkins!”   
  
“Oh c’mon, Kelly… ya’ give it up to everyone else.”  
  
“Maybe but even I have _standards_ ,” she glared at him. “I wouldn’t touch you to slap you. Now move!”   
  
“That ain’t very nice Kelly,” he reached for her, but a hand grabbed his wrist and in one swift movement Peach’s arm was being twisted behind his back and he was being slammed into the stacks of boxes.   
  
Kelly was a little stunned, staring at the man also dressed in waders overalls, clearly another worker here. He was glaring hotly at the back of Peach’s head, twisting the arm up a little further as the man howled in pain. His grip never ceased and he pulled Peach back before slamming him back in the boxes again.   
  
“The lady said no,” the man growled, before shoving Peach to the floor.   
  
He glanced at Kelly and she was able to stop herself from gasping in slight horror at his face. Half of it was a handsome man, a real show stopper, someone who would’ve gotten countless attention from the ladies, but the other half? That was a mess of scars and burns, clear signs of a man who’d seen the horror of war and survived it. Only to continue living with the horrors permanently burnt onto his skin. There was something infinitely sad about the him. Like he was the human equivalent of a tragedy.   
  
“Are you alright Miss?” He asked, before his eyes flickered from her to Peach who was still on the floor. He looked at her again and nodded slightly at Peach, almost like it was an invitation. Kelly took that invitation, quickly and harshly kicking the scumbag on the floor in his stomach, making sure to aim with the bounty end of her heel.   
  
Kelly straightened out her clothes and stepped around Peach, eyeing her saviour up and down. He wasn’t a bad looking man, even with the damage to his face it didn’t take away from his looks. If anything, Kelly thought it added a uniqueness to him. She found him intriguing, a mosaic of tragedy, brutality, horror and humanity all haphazardly stitched together.   
  
“I’m fine…” she said looking him up and down. “And you are?”   
  
“O’Riley.”   
  
“Got a first name O’Riley?”  
  
He smiled at her. “You got a name at all, Miss?”   
  
Kelly smirked at him, cocking her hips to the side and resting her hands on them. “I go by many names,” she winked, holding her hand out to him. “My most common one is Kelly Christie.”   
  
“A pleasure, Miss Christie,” he took her hand and shook it, she noted how rough his hands were. Workman’s hands. “Anything I can do to help you? You ain’t the sort that comes down here.”   
  
“And are you the sort that often helps poor women in distress?”  
  
“Oh, I’d hardly say you were in distress,” he cracked a grin at her. “I get the feeling you’re the sort who can handle whatever a man throws at her,” he glanced at the pay checks and held his hand out to them. “Want me to take those? Hate for your shoes to get ruined by fish guts.”   
  
She winced a little at the idea, before cracking a smile at him. “Well… you seem like a trustworthy sort, Mister O’Riley.”   
  
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ll give these over to the lads,” he smiled at her.   
  
Kelly grinned, handing him the pay checks and he looked through them, stuffing his own in his pocket. He glanced at her and nodded.   
  
“I’ll handle these from here, Miss Christie.”  
  
“Well, aren’t you just the proper gentleman?” She grinned at him. “Know just how to treat a lady don’t you? I wonder how far that extends?”   
  
“As far as the lady wishes,” he glared at Peach who’d managed to pick himself up off the floor. “Unlike some people I know what the word ‘no’ means,” Peach glared at him before storming off, probably to sulk. “You want me to squire ya’ back to the bathysphere?”   
  
“I’m quite alright, thank you,” she looked up at him sincerely. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with Fontaine. I hear he doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”   
  
“You’re right, he doesn’t,” he sighed and looked over the packages of money in his hand. “I’ll get these to the boys.”   
  
“And I appreciate it,” she turned on her heel and began walking away. “Oh, Mister O’Riley?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“If say a girl was trying to find you so she could have a good time… where would that be?” She looked over her shoulder and flashed a smile.  
  
O’Riley looked surprised, his eyes widened a little, eyebrows shooting up under his flat cap that he wore.   
  
“Um. The Fighting McDonagh after hours… ain’t that many people there, at that time and they don’t…” he reached a hand up to his scarred face, closing his eyes and sighing. “Well you get the idea. Either that or the Drop, but I wouldn’t advise you going there.”   
  
“I have a friend who lives the Drop,” Kelly smiled. “I know it well. I’m a big girl I can handle a little grime.”   
  
“Not.. what I’m worried about, but okay…” he smiled a little. “The pub is a better option.”   
  
“The pub. You got it,” she winked, turning and walking away again, already planning out her outfit in her head. “Miss Christie?”   
  
Kelly turned around and raised an eyebrow at the man who now looked oddly vulnerable. “Yes?”   
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“For what?” He offered her a smile. “For treating me like a human being,” he nodded to her once, before turning and walking into the Fisheries.  
  
Whilst his words had made her smile, she couldn’t help but think how truly depressing and heartbreaking that sentence was. So what if he was little damaged, he was still a person. Then again, maybe because he was damaged was the reason people didn’t like him. They didn’t like being reminded of the war, it was why a lot had come down here after all. They wanted to get away from their loss and memories. They wanted to escape the horrors and then O’Riley’s very existence was a constant reminder of what they were running from.   
  
It was true that he wasn’t the usual man she’d go for… she couldn’t deny that she was intrigued by him. He was something new and exciting and he’d matched her teasing with his own. He hadn’t stumbled over his words or made cheesy comments, he’d been straight to the point and blunt. Matching her wit with his cynicism. Well, opposites attract she supposed, he was certainly an interesting one to say the least. Every scar held a story, she couldn’t wait to hear his.

* * *

  
Kyburz couldn’t believe what he was seeing, hell by the looks of things he wasn’t the only one, Pablo looked just as surprised and maybe just a little more concerned.   
  
The two men stared down at the object in Daniel’s hand, before looking up at Daniel in question. The man for the briefest moment looked a lot like he had done before he got married. That timid and unsure young man who looked like a small gust of wind could and would knock him over.   
  
Kyburz blinked, looking down at the object again, before he looked back at Daniel. “Is that…?” He started, swallowing uneasily and giving himself a moment to collect himself. “Is that a gun?”   
  
“What’s it look like to you?” Daniel hissed.   
  
“Why do you have one of those?” Pablo asked eyeing it. “Seriously? Who gave _you_ a gun?”   
  
“I bought it, you idiot!” He snapped. “Opal’s got one too… she’s got one of them lady smith pistols, they fit in her handbags.”   
  
“Daniel… why?”   
  
“Why’d you think? Have you seen how crazy it’s gotten out there?” He gestured vaguely towards the rest of Rapture, holstering the gun away. “Can’t be too careful.”   
  
“Do you even know how to use that thing?” Pablo asked.   
  
“I’m not as hopeless as you think,” Daniel snapped. “My Grandad used to take me hunting, god rest is soul, now he’s gonna help me protect my family. Protect my wife though… Opal is a good shot herself.”  
  
“Daniel,” Kyburz rubbed at his face a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna have to kill someone, you do realise this don’t you?”   
  
Daniel glared at him, his fists were clenched tightly by his sides and he looked insulted. “What do you take me for, some sort of idiot? Of course I know I’m gonna have to kill someone. If it’s so I can go home to my wife every night in one piece than I’ll gladly do it. I’ve got my happy ending, no loony over dosed splicer is going to take it away from me.”  
  
Pablo sighed, glancing at Kyburz. “Ya know.. he’s got a point. It might be time we invest in a few fire arms.”  
  
“You can’t be serious?”   
  
He shrugged. “Never hurts to be prepared, Kyburz. You seen some of those loons… they’re off their fucking rocker. Maybe puttin’ them in the ground would be for the best.”   
  
Kyburz stared at him. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this. He couldn’t believe that this was what it had come to. Ryan had promised them a place of peace, a place where they would all be equals and could thrive. He’d promised them utopia and like an idiot Kyburz had believed him. He’d believed that everything was going to be fine and had convinced himself that once the hanging had stopped everything would be fine. Everything would go back to how it used to be. What a wonderful lie that was, one he told to himself so it made living down here just that little bit more bearable.   
  
In hindsight, he should’ve realised that it was too good to be true the moment Ryan handed him his contract to sign. Perpetuity. The word had been plastered right before his eyes and he’d never once taken it into consideration. He was never leaving, he wasn’t aloud to leave. No one was. At the time he’d simply shrugged it off, if he was going to a utopia why would he want to leave? Hindsight was a wonderful thing.   
  
“What about you?” Kyburz eyed Pablo, glancing at his fingers. Images of the woman frozen solid and shattering still fresh and clear in his mind. “How come you aren’t as crazy as the rest of them?”   
  
Pablo glared at him. “I don’t over indulge in my plasmids and tonics, ya fuckin’ idiot! What do you take me for? Ya think I was born yesterday?”  
  
“I thought you were pretty stupid when you first started taking those things.”  
  
“Some of us don’t mind a little risk, Kyburz,” Pablo bit back. “Unlike you, ya cowardly bastard!”   
  
“I’m not a coward.”   
  
“You can’t even work up the guts to tell the girl ya’ like that you like her,” Pablo got in his face, eyes flashing with the power of plasmids. “You’re the biggest fucking coward out of the lot of us!”   
  
Kyburz snarled and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him harshly forwards. “You take that back!”   
  
“Yellow bellied coward!” Pablo snarled. “What ya’ gonna do? Throw a punch? You ain’t got the guts!”   
  
“Both of you stop it!” Em yelled, pulling them apart, she glared at Daniel who was staring wide eyed at the scene. “What the hell were you doing?”   
  
“What?” Daniel blinked.   
  
She gestured angrily to Pablo and Kyburz. “Where you going to intervene at any point or where you just going to let them kill each other!”   
  
“Well, you stopped them!”   
  
Em face palmed. “Only because I got here in time! What the hell where you thinking?!” She turned her burning gaze on to Kyburz, pointing her finger in his face. “What were you thinking?!” She span around angrily and pointed at Pablo. “And what were you thinking?! There’s a goddamn war out there and you three idiots are trying to kill each other inside! What the hell is wrong with you?!”   
  
Kyburz sighed and looked at the floor. She was right. With all the chaos going on outside with the splicers, fighting and arguing with each other wasn’t going to help any of them. Neither was trying to kill each other, though he doubted it would get that far. Then again…?   
  
He glanced at Pablo’s hand, the one where he kept the incinerate plasmid. Who’s to say that the bastard wouldn’t of used it just to get the upper hand or kill Kyburz? Pablo wouldn’t do that? He supposed though, that a lot of the things the splicers were doing where things they’d never would have. Now however? With the ADAM coursing through their veins, ripping through their genetics and destroying any semblance of humanity, anything was possible.   
  
From what he’d heard, the splicers were getting more violent. Their actions were getting more horrific by the day… one twisted and sick bastard had been killing people and taking them back to his workshop. He’d used to make puppets to entertain the children, but decided that wood just wasn’t cutting it anymore and instead started using people. They only found this out after he invited a bunch of school children to come and see the puppet show. A standard thing he’d always done, but when the curtains pulled back and revealed the mangled and rotting corpses painted up to look vaguely like his puppets, chaos had ensued.   
  
He’d quickly been detained and taken away to Persephone, where he belonged. The children were shook up and a few went through psyche evaluations… the ones that could afford it. The bodies were removed and the workshop was closed, but some citizens had decided that simply closing it wasn’t enough and burnt the place. Kyburz couldn’t say he blamed them.   
  
“She’s right,” he rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. He was getting more and more of those recently. “Fighting with each other isn’t going to solve anything. We have to stick together,” he glanced down at her belt and spotted a gun was now resting there with her tools. “You got one too?”   
  
“I’m not taking any chances, Kyburz,” she bit out, glaring a little at him. “I have my son to think about. Any of those spliced up bastards try to take him away from me… they’ll get a bullet between the eyes for their trouble.”  
  
“See? Em gets it,” Daniel gestured to her. “You’ve gotta protect your own. Rapture was never a forgiving place, it’s damn right hostile now!”   
  
“It was always hostile,” Pablo mumbled, taking out a cigarette, snapping his fingers and lighting it. He didn’t miss how the other flinched slightly when he used his plasmid and he glared at them. “I ain’t gonna burn you up, ya bunch of pansies! Jesus christ! I ain’t a goddamn splicer!”   
  
Em pinched the bridge of her nose sighing. “We know, Pablo… we know..” She gave him a tight smile. “Just jumpy is all.”   
  
“Best not be jumpy when you start popping off shots,” he gestured to the gun at her hip. “That ain’t a toy.”  
  
“I know. I don’t intend to use it as one.”   
  
Kyburz sighed, pocketing his hands, staring up at the rock and metal ceiling of Hephestus. The orange light caused shadows working men to dance across the ceiling. The shadows themselves looked like some sort of demented spirits and the sounds of machines and men working acted as their war cry. The shadows, with their strange movements and elongated limbs reminded him of the splicers.   
  
Rapture had once been so beautiful. He remembered the first time he saw it and he truly believed that yes, this was utopia. This was going to be perfect. The buildings stretched across the ocean floor, a few lights and neon signs were already up, flickering welcomely in the depths. A little bit of light in the dark. That light was getting harder and harder to find now days.   
  
“How did this happen…” he mumbled, still staring at the ceiling. “Everything used to be perfect.”   
  
“Wouldn’t go that far…” Pablo mumbled but he shrugged a little in agreement. “But it was better than this.”   
  
“Yeah…” Daniel sighed, staring at the floor sadly. “Opal and me were thinking of starting a family but… we don’t think that’s such a good idea. At least not yet. Once all this splicer business has blown over and things settle-.”   
  
“You think that’s going to happen?” Pablo threw him a skeptical look. “Open ya fuckin eyes, Daniel! This ain’t gonna get better, it’s gonna get worse.”   
  
“You don’t know that…” Em reasoned.   
  
“The hell I do!” He glared at her. “You’re smart Ms Em, you know… you know just as well I do that things aren’t gonna get any better.”   
  
She sighed and nodded slightly. “Doesn’t hurt to hope though..”   
  
“Don’t kid yaself. Hope is the worst thing you can give someone,” he took a drag of his cigarette. “Especially when we all know it’s hopeless.”   
  
“Have a little faith, Pablo,” Kyburz said, offering a little smile. “Things might surprise you.”   
  
Pablo narrowed his eyes, taking another drag. “They haven’t surprised me yet,” with that he turned and stalked away.

* * *

  
_Reggie,_   
  
_Trigger happy:_   
  
_Jesus that woman’s scary. Fine set of pins and easy on the eyes, but fuckin’ scary. Ain’t ever seen someone shoot like that, Ms Em’s a natural. Better pass word on to the boss… cause she’s good at aimin’ and a little trigger happy._


	27. Why Don't You Believe Me

_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_An Empty Niche:_   
  
_This Lamb twist went after Ryan all cockeyed. Solidarity angle was smart at first. Poorhouses and breadlines? High-grade bunko. And that religious rights debate - hahahaha! Gotta wonder if she stared it just to watch Ryan squirm up there in his money suit. Lamb’s only problem is she really buys into the whole song an’ dance! Savin’ the world - ha! Rapture just ain’t her town. Ryan’s got her on ice somewhere now… and I figure that opens up the charity scam for the professionals._

* * *

  
Stanley Poole couldn’t believe it. He’d managed to get Lamb taken away. Not to mention he’d also dealt with that Jonny Topside all the rich and famous had been talking about.   
  
The guy found Rapture in a diving bell and pretty soon had become a celebrity. Everyone had been so impressed by a guy that found Rapture, that dared to travel so deep and make it. He’d been a curious sort, asking questions about this and that. Not many of the poorer folk knew about him though. Jonny stayed in the higher places of Rapture, mostly because the rest of the rich and famous didn’t want him to know about the seedy underbelly. It had all been well and good until he started asking bigger more dangerous questions.   
  
When Ryan caught wind of this new arrival he’d asked Poole to keep an eye on him and Stanley had jumped at the chance. He’d jump at any chance to impress Andrew Ryan, the biggest big shot of Rapture.   
  
He’d watched Jonny Topside, a man that even Poole had been impressed with. Watched him as he wandered around and explored the sights. Telling people about the surface world above. They all seemed very surprised that a war hadn’t broken out, a few even looked a bit home sick or maybe that was just… plasmid sick. It was hard to tell these days. Stanley didn’t think there was any harm in Jonny Topside being here, he was just a new resident after all.   
  
Ryan, however, wanted results, so Stanley told him what he wanted to hear. He told the big boss that Jonny Topside was actually CIA or… implied that he could be. Truth was he didn’t know, not for certain, but the man was pretty shifty about his name. That had to be a CIA thing right? Regardless, Jonny Topside was arrested and taken away, same with that Lamb twist, but she left Poole in charge.   
  
Yeah, Stanley Poole was now in charge of an entire area of Rapture and the vast fortune that Lamb had built up over the years she’d been in Rapture.   
  
It had been easy to convince Ava to start the parties up again, the woman was so high on EDEN or ADAM that it hadn’t been a difficult challenge. It also seemed like Ava had missed her wild party nights and so had her visitors. Now, however, Lamb’s followers were getting involved with the parties too. Most of Lamb’s followers were the poor and they’d only imagined seeing such a lavish banquet and extravagance. They’d been all too happy to let go of their beliefs and party away, rubbing elbow to elbow with some of the rich and famous.   
  
Andrew Ryan hadn’t minded the parties continue or indeed that Poole now owned an area of Rapture. He was just glad to at least have some of Lamb’s deluded followers otherwise occupied. They were less likely to go looking for the doctor when they couldn’t even walk in a straight line.   
  
There was, however the issue of Lamb’s daughter Eleanor. She’d always glared at Stanley, whenever he left one of his sessions with Doctor Lamb, little Eleanor would be standing right outside. Her eyes were sharp and they’d be pointedly glaring at him. He hadn’t intended for her to stick around, but it seemed that wouldn’t be a problem. Lamb had already arranged for Eleanor to stay with Grace Holloway and Stanley was glad to be rid of the brat. She always unnerved him.   
  
Turning to the current party that was in full swing, Stanley picked up a bottle of the watered down wine and stood on top of one of the tables.   
  
“Alright everyone!” He called, getting a few people’s attention. “It’s time for some EDEN!”   
  
A few shouts of agreement and screams answered him as Ava came out. She was carrying a large silver dish, a few more people followed her carrying the same type of dish. Inside were small bottles of EDEN, their luminescent glow caused the bowls to look purple.   
  
Ava had taken to wearing a mask recently, though Stanley wasn’t sure why. It was one of those creepy Sander Cohen rabbit masks that people wore for the New Years masquerade ball. Of course it wasn’t just rabbits, there was a whole assortment of different animals, but anyone that was part of Cohen’s little groupies wore the rabbit masks.   
  
Ava walked over to him, her eyes were glowing behind the mask from the amount of ADAM and EDEN running through her system. She smiled at him and handed his own little bottle to him and Stanley gladly took it. Nothing quite gave you a high like a shot of EDEN and now he had all the money in the world to spend on it.

* * *

  
“Are you going to the New Years celebration, Mister Fontaine?”   
  
Frank, who was busy writing up some garbage to feed to the suckers later, glanced up at Clayton who was staring up at the family painting again. The boy had a bit of a fixation with it, though Frank couldn’t think for the life of him as to why. The portrait itself had been a sick joke at the time, something to just feed his bitterness and it certainly had worked.   
  
His eyes flickered from Clayton to lazily glide over the painting of the ‘Fontaine family’, to give his character more credibility.   
  
Family. Frank wanted to snort at the idiotic sentiment held behind family. People put too much importance into it. After all his real family, if you could call them that, had thrown him away, because they didn’t want him. There was no great sentiment behind the idea of family for him, his own had stabbed him in the back after all, out of their own selfishness and spite.   
  
_Apple hasn’t really fallen too far from the tree though, has it Frankie?_   
  
He scowled a little at his own inner monolog, always there to help him further into another stage of emptiness and thinking. It was irritating and the kid had made it just a touch worse, but Frank ignored the voices for now. He wasn’t crazy, it wasn’t those kinds of voices, not like the splicers. It was still irritating however. Thinking too hard and for too long had always bothered him. Could be he needed another trip to Eve’s Garden after tonight. Just to clear his head.   
  
“No, kid,” he looked back down at the letters he was writing. “Ain’t really my kind of scene.”   
  
Clayton wandered over and took his usual seat opposite Fontaine. He’d grown a bit so now he didn’t have to sit on his knees to be able to look over the table top.   
  
Frank wasn’t sure how this little routine of there’s had happened, but now it was a regular occurrence. He’d be at his desk doing something and Clayton would sit opposite him. Sometimes they’d talk, sometimes they just sat in silence, other times they went over other pick pocketing techniques, but the kid was pretty good at those now. He didn’t really need the help, but Clayton always seemed to use it as an excuse to get some sort of psychical interaction with Frank.   
  
The boy was a little clingy, he craved physical affection and his mother gave it to him willingly. Fontaine was not the huggable or the affectionate type, but it seemed Clayton had taken being shown how to pickpocket as a form of affection, so he sort after it regularly.   
  
As kids went, Clay’ wasn’t too bad. He wasn’t really loud and obnoxious like most other kids. He was quiet, calm, patient. Nothing like Frank at all, who had it on good authority that he’d been a nightmare to deal with.   
  
Clayton tilted his head a little. “I’m gonna go. Mama and her friends are all going out. It’s my very first new year party, I’m excited!”  
  
“Eh,” Frank shrugged. “You’ve been to one party you’ve been to them all,” he glanced up at Clayton and flashed a grin. “But, if ya runnin’ around where the rich and famous live… ya might be able to come back with a big score.”  
  
The boy grinned right back. “I gifted some sweets yesterday.”   
  
“Gifted?”  
  
“Isn’t that what it is?” Clayton tilted his head. “Gifting?”   
  
Frank laughed, shaking his head. “Ya mean ‘griftin’?”  
  
“Oh. Yeah, that’s what I meant.”   
  
“Don’t sweat it, Clay’,” he smirked folding the letter away and getting ready to write another one. “I think I like your version better. Technically, ya are gifting yourself somethin’, think I might use that term from now on.”   
  
Clayton beamed at him, looking a little proud of himself. It didn’t take much to boost the boys confidence and self-esteem. That was good. In place like Rapture you needed an iron clad armour of confidence and self-esteem, else the people in here would eat you alive. With a mother like Em, Frank was pretty certain the kid would grow up to be a stubborn and sarcastic little bastard, not to mention smart.   
  
Even Frank had been impressed and a little taken aback by Clayton’s intelligence. Kid was smart, alarmingly smart and he’d had to be careful a few times.   
  
“Me and Mama are going to be getting masks tonight,” Clayton smiled. “All the parties are having mask-ar-ades?”   
  
“Masquerades?”   
  
“That’s what I said.”  
  
“Sure it is.”   
  
They fell back into that comfortable silence again. Clayton went back to staring at the painting once more. Fontaine was contemplating removing the damn thing since it seemed to be bothering him more and more. The spiteful and bitter side of his personality, however, wasn’t too keen on getting rid of its only food source.   
  
“What type of mask do you think I should get?”  
  
“What do I look like? A party organiser?” Frank snapped a little, but Clayton didn’t flinch.  
  
He had gotten used to Fontaine’s snappy personality. Said something about Frank just being grumpy all the time and he was okay with that. He’d been very close to saying that Frank was just a grumpy old man, but one well placed glare and the boy had settled with him just being grumpy. He wasn’t old, thank you very much, he resented being called as such.   
  
Clayton shrugged, playing coy. “I just think you’ve got good taste.”   
  
“Bullshit you do,” he pointed his pen at him. “My own tricks don’t work on me, but since ya’ askin’… anything but the goddamn rabbit masks.”   
  
“So… you don’t like rabbits?”   
  
“Too Sander Cohen,” he looked back at his letters. “I’d say you’d suit one of those cat masks or hey, maybe the bird ones.”  
  
“Your own tricks don’t work on you, huh?” Clayton smirked.   
  
Frank paused, glancing up to fix the kid with a well earned glare. The little shit was smirking right back at him looking pretty pleased with himself.   
  
“Alright you little bastard,” Clayton giggled and it made Frank’s scowl deepen. “Oh yous find that funny huh? What ya tryna’ do? Give me a headache? I’m cranky as it is, yous really wanna make that worse?”  
  
“Why are you cranky?” Clayton giggled.   
  
“Oh yeah, go on, laugh it up short stack.”  
  
“I ain’t short!”  
  
“Well yous sure as hell ain’t tall.”   
  
“Well… neither are you!”   
  
Frank placed a hand to his chest, mocking being hurt. “Low blow, kid. Low blow. Ya know just how ta’ break a man’s heart you do,” he sighed rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No. I just gotta write these damn letters since Limes is busy and I don’t trust anyone else to write ‘em.”   
  
“What are they for?”   
  
“Advertisin’ a new plasmid,” he went back to writing again. “Think it’ll really appeal to these artist types, so I wanna advertise it to them first. Just really hate their type.”   
  
“You don’t like artists?” Frank scowled at the paper. “I don’t like fancy fat cats who’ll take any chance given ta remind you just where ya came from,” he had to stop writing for a moment in fear of breaking the nib of his pen. “I swear if I hear that bitch LaLorna make one more comment about my accent I’m gonna…” he trailed off, trying to calm himself down.   
  
He didn’t think going on a tirade of how he very much wanted that bitch dead in a ditch would be good for Clayton to hear. The kid didn’t need to know about the far nastier side of Frank Fontaine. There were some things better left alone and this was one of them. What the kid didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.   
  
“Miss LaLorna isn’t very nice,” Clayton agreed.   
  
Frank looked up at him, eyebrow raised in question. “Oh yeah? When have you ever had to deal with her?”   
  
Clayton frowned, he looked angry. It was a strange emotion to see on the usually passive and happy boy’s face. It didn’t suit it. Looked wrong and out of place.   
  
“She was mean to my Mama,” the boy explained, glaring at the floor. “She said some horrible things. I got so angry. I wanted to-.”  
  
“Kid, Clayton,” Frank reached forward and tapped at the desk in front of Clayton, startling the boy so he looked up at him. “Don’t you worry ‘bout what LaLorna said to ya’ Ma. I can’t imagine Em would be the type to take that lyin’ down.”   
  
“No, but Mama get’s really scared of the posh women,” he frowned. “Well, not scared but.. nervous?”   
  
Interesting. This was the first time Fontaine was hearing of this, but then again it did explain her behaviour at the anniversary ball three years ago. She hadn’t been nervous of Andrew Ryan, she’d been nervous of the women standing with him. So, she had an issue with her status in the eyes of Rapture’s female elite? Wonder why.   
  
“Huh, odd,” he mused, folding his hands together and studying the boy. “Just why is that do you suppose?”  
  
“Mama doesn’t think she’s pretty,” Clayton sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “We only have one mirror in the house, she doesn’t like looking at herself,” he frowned again, looking up at Fontaine and shrugging. “She doesn’t like her scars either. She hates looking at them. When Mama has the nightmares… she says she can feel her arm burning and…” he stopped looking back at his hands. “She gets so sad…”  
  
“It’s called Shellshock, kid,” Fontaine explained softly, far softer than what he thought he was capable of. “A lot of folks got it after the war.”   
  
It felt weird to talk about the war. It hadn’t really effected him too much, in fact, because everyone was rationing stuff, it had been a fantastic time for a grifter like himself. He’d ran a little grift, handing out extra food for those who could afford it and fake rationing cards that hadn’t been stamped. Taking advantage of the needy had been so easy and it meant he came out of the back end of the war not too bad. It was how he’d been able to buy all his other venues topside, the pharmacy, the bookkeeping and eventually the bar.   
  
Still, even he’d admit when he saw that bomb drop on the news it had sparked the tiniest hint of fear in him. With a single push of a button the government had wiped out an entire city. He’d seen the photographs afterwards in the paper. The injuries and burns the survivors of the bombing had sustained. He hadn’t known how to feel at the time. In the end he’d settled on not feeling anything at all, it was easier that way.   
  
It also reinstated his belief of being in charge meant you could get away with anything. The government had murdered hundreds and thousands of innocent people as well as the soldiers they were aiming for, but they got away with it. All because they held the power. If you were in charge, you could do no wrong.   
  
“You say that like I should know what it means,” Clayton frowned. “I don’t know much about the war. Mama won’t talk about it, just says it was a waste of life.”   
  
“I didn’t see much of it,” Frank admitted. “Still in New York. Saw the aftermath though.”  
  
“Aftermath?”  
  
“Sometimes the fallout is worse than the war itself, kid.”   
  
He remembered the day the soldiers came home. New York had a big celebration, people had danced in the streets, but along with the celebration were heartbroken cries of loved ones who’s partners or sons hadn’t come home. Sometimes they’d come home and brought the war back with them, that was Shellshock. If you didn’t have that, however, there were also the soldiers who lost more than little fragments of their sanity. There were the ones that lost a limb, or their faces were damaged beyond recognition.   
  
Frank had a guy working at the docks who’s entire left side of his face was jacked up from the war. It made you queasy just looking at it.   
  
“Saw a lot of guys that didn’t come back whole,” he shrugged. “And I mean that both psychically and mentally. Reggie fought in the first war… he said that…” he trailed off frowning a little. “He said that you go and ya leave a piece of yourself on that battlefield and you come back with a piece of the war. It gives the illusion of you bein’ whole, but the piece doesn’t fit quite right and sometimes it falls out of place and shows how broken you really are.”   
  
He remembered when he first lived with Limey and Reggie, the big lug had bad nightmares. Not every night, but the first time had scared young Frankie. Here was this big, impossible to reach man and he was screaming about enemies you couldn’t see. The smell of mustard used to set Reggie off at times, but Limey was able to work him through it. He’d tense up, but for the most part he was okay.   
  
“Is that why Mama has the nightmares?” Clayton asked.  
  
“I don’t know why your Ma has nightmares and Shellshock, Clay’,” he tapped at the desk. “It’s somethin’ you should talk to her about.”   
  
“She won’t tell me,” Clayton replied miserably. “She just looks so sad and tells me it’s not important.”   
  
“But it’s important to you?”   
  
“Of course it is!” His eyes were watery and he was suddenly hugging himself. “I hear her wake up screaming or crying. The walls are thin at home so I hear her. She sounds so sad when she cries, but I can’t do anything. I don’t know what to do to help. It makes me feel so useless.”   
  
“You ain’t useless kid,” Frank frowned at him. “She loves you, it’s why she ain’t tellin’ ya,” Fontaine may not understand why people loved or fell in love, but he understood the emotion itself. “She cares ‘bout ya, so she doesn’t want to burden you with her problems.”   
  
“Shouldn’t that be my choice?” Frank laughed. “I ain’t no head doctor, Clayton,” he went back to writing again. “Your best chance is talkin’ to her and explainin’ how ya feel. Sometimes though, it ain’t easy for folks to talk about the ‘why’. Bear that in mind.”  
  
“You’re really smart, Mister Fontaine.”  
  
“Nah,” Frank cracked a grin. “Just understand people. It’s how ya’ reel the suckers in.”   
  
Speaking of, his latest scam that he was going to start running now that Lamb was out the picture.   
  
Fontaine’s home for the poor had only just opened up a week ago and already it was proving fruitful. He handed these mugs a cot and bowl of soup and they gave him their lives. There was something to be said about taking advantage of the needy, Sinclair had been on to something when he set up the Sinclair Deluxe. Though, Fontaine had gone the extra mile, he didn’t charge people for his facilities, it was a charity. A charity Ryan was sure to hate and didn’t that just bring a smile to his face.   
  
All across Rapture, Fontaine had set up poor houses and soup lines. People had come flocking, bringing their children along. If they lived in one of Fontaine’s poor houses they’d get a coupon for a free check up at the Fontaine clinic and once the saps got hooked on the good service they payed the full price happily. Also, what choice did they have? Wasn’t like they had anyone looking out for them. Ryan had just left them to rot in the slums and slowly starve to death, then Fontaine appeared as their saving grace. Get the people on his side and Ryan would be yesterdays news.   
  
The funny thing was, most of the saps were buying plasmids and tonics, the money Fontaine got from those sales he put towards maintaining the poor houses. So in twisted way those desperate idiots were paying for their rent anyway and Fontaine was all the richer for it.   
  
Frank had even dutifully played the part of owner, coming down to inspect his new venues with Em as she went over parts that needed improvement. He’d been shocked by the amount of people that had come running to thank him for his kind and generous nature. Em had rolled her eyes, muttering something in her own language which he was certain wouldn’t be very polite towards him. Still, he’d played his part and plastered on a kind, understanding smile. He’d listened to a few of their sob stories, filing the information away for use later. Desperate and starving people were far easier to manipulate than any rational thinking person.   
  
“Here, Clay’,” he said finishing off the final letter and sealing it shut. “This might take ya mind off things,” he handed Clayton the letters. “Yous go and post those for me, yeah? They’re in the fancier parts of Rapture so you won’t have to worry ‘bout no splicers, but make sure no one sees ya, got it?”   
  
“So it’s a secret mission?”  
  
“Sure is,” he flashed him a toothy grin. “Ya biggest secret mission yet,” he paused a moment. “Yous may want to use the vents to get around.”  
  
“Okay, Mister Fontaine,” he beamed at him and quickly ran off, carrying the letters with him.   
  
Frank sat back in his seat smiling. Yeah, kid wasn’t bad at all. He’d grown quite fond of him and maybe just a little protective of him. So what? Clayton was useful, couldn’t afford to loose someone that was useful. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.  
  
He glanced out the window at the rest of the glowing city. Things were being set in motion, soon he’d be the one in control of Rapture and Ryan would be the one eating table scraps. See, there was one thing Ryan had forgotten and that was to truly be in control you needed the trust of the people. Well, Ryan had already lost the trust of the poor and the poor always out numbered the rich. You always needed more than one servant to look after one greedy king after all.   
  
Now that Ryan had lost the poor, Fontaine just needed to come up with a way to make him loose the vote of the rich. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that just yet, though plasmids had certainly helped him a little. Still, addiction would only go so far, he needed to work out a way to control the splicers. Might be something to talk to Suchong about. The psychotic little man was a bit of a control freak, he’d probably jump at the chance to work out how to control the splicers.   
  
Andrew Ryan had got it all wrong. You didn’t need to build a city to make people worship you, just make the chumps think they’re worth a nickel.  
  
Frank had an army brewing in his little poor houses, wouldn’t be long now until Rapture was his and Andrew Ryan would be nothing but a distant memory.

* * *

  
Amélie took up the needle containing another tonic. This was hair regrow. Some of her hair had fallen out while she was brushing it. Panicked, she’d placed a scarf around her head and bought a tonic for it. The breast grow tonic had worked wonders for her already, so she was certain that the hair regrow would too. She’d also noticed parts of her face and arms had begun to sag, so naturally while purchasing the hair regrow she brought skin lift tonic.   
  
Sliding the needle into her arm she injected herself with the tonic and felt the buzz from the power that was running through her veins. It felt glorious, feeling her whole body come alive with the power and strength that came from the tonics and plasmids. She’d even recently bought incinerate and winter blast, finding both of these plasmids wondrously useful for her nightlife.   
  
Glancing up at one of the many mirrors that littered her home, she smiled in approval. Deciding that she wouldn’t take any notice of the sagging of her lower eyelids, the swelling of her lip, the pale lifeless skin and the few growths that now littered her arms and face. They were simple things that could be fixed. Steinman could do it, she was certain of it.   
  
She plucked up her makeup and her brushes, quickly applying them to her face. She messed up, her hands were shaking so much that she almost poked her eyes out with her eye liner. The once elegant lines were now wiggly and almost jagged, her lipstick was smeared and because one side of her face had sagged, her blush was in the wrong place.   
  
Nothing that ADAM, tonics, plasmids and a trip to Steinman’s couldn’t fix. She’d be back to her old self in no time, she was positive of that. Then she’d like to see the look on Ada and Ava’s faces when they saw the perfected LaLorna. Cohen could kiss his fame goodbye, she’d be the one making front page. She’d be the one that everyone was talking about.   
  
She could almost see her name on the front page now.   
  
Smiling to herself in the mirror, tilting her head a little and showing off her now uneven and missing teeth. She stared at her reflection for a moment, the smile faltering just a little before falling from her face completely as blood began to leak out of her eyes. It mixed with her make up and soon she had a mixture of bloody and black tear streaks running down her face.   
  
Furiously she wiped them away, grabbing the mirror and smashing it across the floor. She was about to start stamping on it, when a letter fell through her letter box.  
  
Pausing she wandered over to the letter, picking it up and tearing it open. She pulled out the letter going over the writing, reading the words and finally a smile fell across her face. “How very interesting…” she mumbled, tapping away at the corner of her mouth. “I just might take you up on that.”

* * *

  
_Brigid Tenenbaum,_   
  
_ADAM Explained:_   
  
_ADAM acts like a benign cancer, destroying native cells and replacing them with unstable stem versions. While this very instability is what gives it its amazing properties, it is also what causes the cosmetic and mental damage. You need more and more ADAM just to keep back the tide._   
  
_From a medical standpoint, this is catastrophic. From a business standpoint, well… Fontaine sees the possibilities._


	28. Whatever Will Be, Will Be

_Peach Wilkins,_   
  
_Offered a Deal:_   
  
_The Irish porkpie offered me a deal. I flip ‘em Fontaine, and I walk out of here. That simple. How do I know that fat fuck isn’t Fontaine’s guy? How do I know they’re not all Fontaine’s guy? Fontaine’s got the ADAM and everybody wants it. Ryan’s got a whole lot of talk and a nice suit. Even down here, any idiot can see which way the wind is blowing._

* * *

  
Frank Fontaine had done a lot of awful things in his life. Things that would be considered beyond the pale to any other type of person, but to him it was just business. He could reason that with any part of his career. He killed someone? There was usually a reason and it was just business. Lying? Just business. Manipulating? Just business. Stealing? Well, stealing was his business, he was a conman after all. This though? This was pushing it, even for him.   
  
He stared down at the little girl lying on the gurney. She was in a little white hospital gown, a dopey smile from whatever drugs Suchong and Tenenbaum had pumped into her to keep her calm.   
  
Fontaine wasn’t even sure where they got this kid, he certainly hadn’t authorised this, it was the first time he was hearing of it. Though throughout their contract, Tenenbaum and Suchong often did things first and tell him about them later. Or show him the results. This was one of their results. A solution to the ADAM shortage they’d mentioned only moments earlier.   
  
Hosts. Sure, Tenenbaum had mentioned that they thought the slugs were parasitic and survived living off of other sea creatures. When she’d talked about hosts, however, Frank had assumed she meant full grown adult hosts not…   
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm down the impending headache. He wasn’t sure what he was angry about just yet. The fact they’d done this behind his back without consulting him or the fact that they’d done this at all. He wasn’t exactly the picture of morals but he’d never hurt a child. Ever. The closest he’d got to that was Clayton and now look at him. Unable to say a bad word to the kid.  
  
“Okay… okay..” He mumbled, glancing up at the two Doctors who seemed completely unaffected by the situation entirely. “Where in the hell you get that kid?”  
  
“Child was sick,” Tenenbaum said with a nonchalant shrug. “Brain tumour. We tell parents maybe we heal. We implant sea slug in her abdomen, inside. It cures her tumour!”   
  
She went babbling on about something else but Frank wasn’t really paying that much attention. His head was spinning. He was starting to question how it had come to this and then he remembered the list of ADAM, plasmid and tonic requests coming up. More than what he could fill in a year and they were running out of ADAM, that was the whole point of this conversation. The hosts would allow more ADAM, the slugs couldn’t produce enough on their own and not to mention that the slugs themselves were dying.   
  
Still, this was pushing even _his_ morals. Morals that were flimsy at best and non existent at worst, but this right here.. he didn’t think he could do this. It was…barbaric, it would be the cruelest thing he’d ever done in his life, but there was still that sheet of plasmid orders that needed completing. It would sit mockingly in front of him.   
  
It probably said more about him that he was having a hard time choosing what path he should take. Any good person would’ve said ‘no’ outright, but he was too far down this rabbit hole to turn back, right? He couldn’t stop now, not when he was so close and it wasn’t like they were killing the kid.   
  
“You intend to use this child to create a new plasmid base…” he trailed off and shook his head. “One child? Will it be enough? The market for this exploding!” Excuses. That’s all these were, excuses, but for whom? “People are going wild for the stuff!” Understatement of the year. “I was going to start major marketing, stores, maybe even vending machines…” He trailed off.   
  
He was babbling, he never babbled. Was he seriously panicking right now? Getting all upset over what? An experiment? He’d watched a man bust into flames, he’d seen a squid like creature that had once been human in the the special unit. He’d been dealing with people teleporting themselves apart for crying out loud! This was _nothing_.   
  
“This is tester child,” Suchong said, as if he was explaining the obvious. “We need more, many more. Implant, feed, inducing regurgitation - much mutagen produced, much ADAM. Better if not tranquillised. We must prepare hosts for this,” he grinned that excited smile that always disturbed Frank. “Condition them.” Frank closed his eyes a second, trying to steady himself. “How come it… it likes children?”   
  
Christ he was feeling nauseous. Almost like he himself had a sea slug in his stomach squirming around. It was completely his imagination, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. Staring down at the little girl wasn’t helping things much.   
  
He just had to think about this logically. That was all. They hadn’t mentioned anything about harming or killing the kid and putting the sea slug in this little girl had saved her life. It had destroyed her brain tumour. That was a good thing right? Had to count for something? He just needed to think of it logically, stop referring to it… as a child. He could cope then. The kid was fine.   
  
“Child stem cells are more malleable. More… responsive,” Tenenbaum shrugged. “They bond with the sea slug. We need children, Frank. Many children!”   
  
He wished they’d stop calling them that. Still, he snorted. “And where are we supposed to get those? From a mail-order catalogue?”   
  
The two scientists didn’t look amused. When did they ever? They were always so goddamn miserable only finding delight in their morbid delights. Experimenting on children for example.   
  
Suchong went on to explain that there were two little girls readily available. Orphans. That they were the perfect fit, the perfect age. The perfect subjects to be turned into hosts. Fontaine was amazed he could say it so carelessly. Then again, Suchong didn’t like kids. He expressed as such when he almost hit Clayton, that was until Frank stepped in. Suchong had learnt to stay away from the boy after that.   
  
“Okay, they’ve got to be kids, but why girls?” Fontaine asked. “People are even more protective about little girls.”   
  
He was trying to think of this situation as logically as he possibly could. Fontaine could get lost in the logic, it was easier than dealing with this madness head on.   
  
“For some reason girls take sea-slug implant better than boys,” Tenenbaum said, though she did wince and not look at him when she said this. So it wasn’t just him that felt uncomfortable with this situation.   
  
Though, what she said just raised more questions in his head. If they knew girls took the implant better, that meant they’d already tried it out on a little boy. Fontaine wondered what little boy they’d experimented on to determine that and what had become of him. But he didn’t really care. He _didn’t_.   
  
Still, children could easily be procured and in some ways all these plasmid attacks had given them an easy solution. The children’s parents had mostly been killed by splicers, they had nowhere to go. They were all alone and well… he was working the charity angle wasn’t he?   
  
“So just girls, eh? That’s okay. That’ll just be fewer bunks in the orphanage.”   
  
Tenenbaum and Suchong looked at each other in confusion. Turning back to Fontaine and blinking questioningly at him.   
  
“Orphanage? There is an orphanage in Rapture?”   
  
Frank grinned. “No, but there will be. You just gave me the idea with those two orphan girls. I’ll donate the money for the orphanage!” his smile grew as he imagined how much this would irritate Ryan. “Yeah!” He said, feeling more confident as he went on. “The ‘Little Sisters Orphanage.’ We’ll get our adorable little plasmid farms…” he trailed off a moment before continuing. He’d come this far, couldn’t turn back now. “We’ll train ‘em up right. We got to do this soon! I’ve got more orders than I can fill in a year!”   
  
He was buzzing again. The idea of orphanages fed his bitter and resentful side. A side of himself he seemed to be feeding more and more regularly. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. Orphanages. Like where he’d grown up. Orphanages that would lead to money and money… leading to power. It was perfect.   
  
Briefly his mind flickered to Clayton and he paused for a moment to consider what the boy would think of him if he knew about this. Frank then promised himself that Clayton would never know. He’d only see the front that everyone else would see and he couldn’t trust Em to work on the facility. Her maternal instincts might kick in and he’d hate to have to kill her. He was fond of her and he also had more work for her to do. He couldn’t afford to loose her just yet and she was Clayton’s mother. He couldn’t very well hurt the boy the same way he’d been hurt.   
  
Shaking his head to clear it, he offered the two scientists a smile, one that would almost rival their own. It was different to his usual smirks and grins. This one felt a bit more manic, but it seemed like everyone smiled like that now.  
  
“Money and power, Brigid. Money and power! It’s all right there, low hanging fruit for the plucking… in a gatherer’s garden.”

* * *

  
“Do you like this one?”   
  
“Nah… what about that one?”  
  
“Not with that price tag.”  
  
“Could always take the price tag off…?”   
  
“I hope you’re joking, young man.”   
  
Clayton grinned up at his mum. “Of course Mama!”   
  
Em looked amused and ran a hand over his head, before picking up another masquerade mask, this one was a bird. She held it in front of Clayton and raised an eyebrow at him. She herself had picked out a cat mask. She’d been tempted with the butterfly, but it just reminded her of Lamb and that was a lunatic she was happy to see go. No one knew where she’d gone of course, but they all suspected Ryan had something to do with it. Em wouldn’t of been surprised if they found Doctor Lamb floating in the briny.   
  
Andrew Ryan was starting to deal with his problems much the same way Frank Fontaine did. If the problem no longer existed, which translated to if the problem was no longer breathing, then there would be no problem. It was as simple as it was brutal. Mostly, people who stood against Ryan publicly just disappeared. Almost like they’d never been there in the first place, their whole existence was scrubbed from Rapture’s records.   
  
Clayton thumbed the green bird mask and smiled. “I like this one, Mama,” he put it over his head and whilst it was a little big, she’d be able to make it work for him. “See! Raah!” He waved his arms like claws.   
  
“Ohh.. very scary,” she grinned. “Come on, let’s take it to the counter, you can even wear it home if you’d like?”   
  
“Yay!”   
  
They wandered over to the counter, where the woman behind smiled pleasantly at them. Em handed her the masks, quickly giving the bird one to Clayton who slipped it back on. She payed for the masks, slipping her own in a bag and then offered her hand to her son. She’d taken to holding his hand more often, since a few splicers had recently decided that a fun game to play was stealing children. They hadn’t hurt any yet, but no one wanted to risk it.   
  
As they went to leave the store, Sander Cohen blocked her path. She hadn’t spoken to Cohen since the anniversary ball. Sure, she’d seen him around and he’d always waved to her. She waved back of course, she didn’t want to send Cohen into a rage. He was the type of man that seemed to fly off the handle almost as bad as her. Actually, she thought that Cohen was worse.   
  
“My dear Valkyrie,” he crooned, ever dramatic as he was. “It’s been too long,” he took her free hand and kissed the top of her knuckles. She was able to repress her grimace and instead smiled politely at him. “Where have you been?”  
  
“It’s good to see you too, Mister Cohen,” she addressed him. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit busy as of late.”   
  
“Oh my, has Andrew had you slaving away?” Cohen grinned at her. “He really is hard on his workers you know?”   
  
Yes she did know. She worked for him after all. Everyone around Hephestus would joke that they worked for a millionaire, but they couldn’t tell if their salary said that or not. Cohen was also right, Ryan had made her slave away on his locking system. She was glad to be done with it.   
  
“I probably know better than anyone,” she winked at him and he grinned, seeming to be delighted. Cohen was an oddball, but he seemed to appreciate her more sarcastic side.   
  
“And who is this?” He looked down at Clayton who stared back at him. Emilie was surprised that Clayton hadn’t hid behind her legs like he usually did whenever a new person came along.   
  
“I’m Clayton. Clayton Lokken,” he said proudly. “Do you like my mask, Mister Cohen?”   
  
“It’s delightful,” the man said, but Em was reeling from her son being so forward. “Though I’d of preferred a rabbit mask. Like my own, but my dear disciples do wear the bird ones. Can’t say I know why,” Cohen looked at his nails in annoyance. “But each to their own, I suppose.”  
  
“I suppose so,” Em smiled. “If you don’t mind, Mister Cohen, we really have to get going.”  
  
“Oh, but I was looking for you, Ms Lokken,” Sander said, bowing a little. “I have a request to ask of you.”  
  
“I’m not posing.”   
  
“Tempting as that is, dear Valkyrie, that is not what I meant,” he shrugged a little. “Besides I’d rather have a big strong man posing naked for me. How do you cope working around all that lovely meat in Hephestus?”   
  
“They wouldn’t be your type, Sander, too sweaty,” she smirked. “And sadly their personality is lacking.”   
  
Cohen didn’t look impressed, scoffing a little. “Ah yes, the fatal flaw of any Adonis. Beautiful to look at, but lacking in intelligent or indeed, inspirational conversation,” he sighed. “But one must settle with what one gets. I wonder if I could ask something of Steinman…” he trailed off, shaking his head and waving his arms a little. He was always so expressive with his arms, a few other patrons in the shop had to dodge out of the way. “Regardless! What I wanted to ask of you… is information.”  
  
“Information?”  
  
“Inspirational information, if you will?” He grinned. “Of the few tales I know from your lovely little homeland rock of Norway, though one would more call it an iceberg than a rock,” he smirked and she felt her eye twitch a little. “But I know that your Norwegian tales can be quite… morbid, should we say?”  
  
“Educational,” Em countered, slightly narrowing her eyes. “Entertainment.”  
  
“Entertainment that I wish to share with those who do not yet appreciate it,” he held a finger up, grinning. “But they will. What I request is simply a moment of your time to explain such… tales to myself and my disciples. Together we shall create one of my greatest master pieces! All in your honour, of course.”  
  
Emilie raised an eyebrow, glancing at Clayton who was studying Cohen. Even with the mask on she could just about see his eyes. She knew he was judging, calculating and working out how to deal with Cohen. Clayton’s ability to read people was a gift and she’d told him to use it as often as he could. She was certain he now used it all the time.   
  
“Why the interest, Cohen?” She asked, not unkindly, just generally confused. “I’m not all that interesting.”  
  
“Oh my dear, you are,” Cohen grinned at her. “But this isn’t about you, not really. I want the stories and I want the art,” his eyes flickered up to hers and he glared, adding darkly. “And I always get what I want.”   
  
Em believed that. Sander Cohen, like most of Rapture’s elite, was not a man you said ‘no’ to. There was always something dangerous about him. An underlining undertone of something awful just waiting to burst out. Could be that the ADAM was the key that would unlock that particular door, she hoped that she wouldn’t be around to see it.   
  
“Alright…” she said carefully. “When and where?”  
  
“Hmm.. should we say tonight at my club? I’ll inform the man on the door to be expecting you,” he offered her a smile, giving a little bow. “Until then, dear Valkyrie.”   
  
With that, Sander Cohen was gone, out the door and quickly marching his way down the street. Em was glad he was gone. Cohen wasn’t the worst of idiotic elite she had to deal with, he was actually one of the few that was polite to her, but he scared her a little. She always felt like he was going to do something bad and dangerous. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what. Probably something art related. It felt like Sander Cohen was one too many bad trips away from splice town.  
  
“He’s odd.” Em glanced down at Clayton who had lifted his mask up to stare at her. “I’m not really sure what to make of him, Mama.”   
  
“Yeah, you and me both,” she smiled at him. “You were very brave just then. I’ve never seen you so confident talking to a new person.”   
  
Clayton slid the mask back in place. “The mask helped. I felt like I was someone else,” he said while looking back at her. “I still think Mister Cohen is very weird, Mama.”   
  
“Yes, Kjære, he really is,” she nodded in agreement.   
  
“Mister Fontaine doesn’t like him.”   
  
“Mister Fontaine doesn’t like anyone.”   
  
“He likes me!”   
  
She frowned slightly, because she couldn’t argue that. Fontaine, for some bizarre reason, liked her son. He was kind to him or as kind as a man like Frank Fontaine could be. She didn’t know why. She wasn’t too keen on asking him either. If he liked her son, it might mean he’d be protected to a degree.  
  
Occasionally she’d spot them together when she was working at the Futuristics building. She was angry at first and told Clayton off because Fontaine wasn’t a man she wanted him near. He didn’t listen of course, few kids did listen and Clayton was just as stubborn as she was. She’d taught him to be like that though, so you reaped what you sowed.   
  
Fontaine had been nice to Clayton, spoke to him now instead of avoiding him.   
  
She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but for now she left it be. Clayton was happy and seemed to enjoy talking to Fontaine. She didn’t understand how anyone could be excited to see and speak to Fontaine, but her son was the exception to the rule. Like he usually was with most things.   
  
“Yes he does,” she nodded her head. “And I suppose he likes Reggie and Limey. Maybe he’s just picky,” she flashed him a soft smile. “But if he likes you, I’d say he has good taste.”   
  
“Mama?”   
  
“Yes, kjære?”   
  
“Why do people not like Mister Fontaine?”   
  
_Because he’s a bastard,_ Em thought in the privacy of her own mind, _a self serving bastard_.   
  
Instead she just shrugged a little. “I guess he’s just a hard man to get along with. You even said he was grumpy.”   
  
“He’s just cranky,” Clayton shrugged a little back. “He’s probably just really stressed. He’s nice to me so he has to be a good person, right?”   
  
Em stared at her son as he looked up at her with hopeful eyes. She couldn’t tell him the truth, it would break his heart. Frank Fontaine was not a good person, he was so far from a good person it wasn’t even funny. Yet her son seemed to idolise him. Thought he was the greatest person in Rapture, beside herself. Clayton held Fontaine in high regard, he’d said it enough times and Em wasn’t always too sure what to do with that information.   
  
He was still looking at her expectantly, so she smiled back in response while they walked out of the shop. They took the Atlantic Express home for the last time, since tomorrow they were moving out. Emilie had finally managed to save enough money to buy a new apartment, this one in Athena’s Square. One of the many posh and well to do areas. Not only did it have a nice set of apartments, but opposite the apartments was a book shop. Probably the biggest in Rapture and Clayton did love his books so it seemed like the perfect idea.   
  
There was also the fact that Athena’s Square apartment complex was also where Opal and Daniel lived. She’d be closer to her friends now and it was safer in the upper class areas. More security and less splicer attacks. They still happened, splicer attacks had practically become a day to day routine in Rapture. Some more violent than others, but they would be dealt with and taken away. She wasn’t sure what became of them after that, she probably didn’t want to know. Not that she cared any, she couldn’t afford to care about the splicers. Whilst it was sad what they’d become, in the end, they were the ones who chose to take the plasmids in the first place.   
  
It was very clear now that plasmids and tonics were addictive. They were acting like junkies who couldn’t get their fix.   
  
As they walked through the Drop, Em glanced up to the ceiling to see that a few splicers were hanging out at the very top. The drop was built under the the tracks of the Atlantic Express, so the splicers had decided that they would relax on the support beams of the railroad. Because their tonics like sports boost and brute more, the splicers could climb incredible heights without breaking a sweat. She didn’t care, so long as they stayed out of the way.   
  
She heard them cackle from above, one of them had decided to hang upside down, waving their arms around.   
  
Shaking her head, Emilie quickly ushered Clayton along towards the Deluxe, determined to get away before the worst happened. The worst was a broad category of course. She could mean that the worst was a fight broke out or one of those idiots fell off.   
  
They only just made it to the first airlock when a scream sounded followed by a crashing sound and silence. Then more screams and shrieks erupted, yells for help and amongst it all the cackling laughter of the splicers above.   
  
Turning around she confirmed what she felt had happened. The splicer that had been hanging upside down had slipped and fell, smashing into the concrete below. Becoming nothing but a bloody mess on the floor. Blood was pooling around its body, the head was completely caved in and smashed, bits of brain had scattered across the floor. Parts of the skull were mixed in with it. A few teeth too, probably the only ones that were left in the splicer’s mouth as a whole.   
  
Emilie quickly covered Clayton’s eyes so he didn’t have to see and it was a good thing she did because what happened next disgusted her. It had only taken mere moments, but the splicers had climbed down and were swarming the body, licking at the bloody floor, scooping up the blood from the corpse in their hands and drinking it. As they did this they muttered and mumbled about being able to taste the ADAM. Onlookers watched in morbid fascination as these things that had once been people turned into nothing but animals in a matter of moments, and all it took was the smell of ADAM.

* * *

  
Kyburz sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he sat at his desk in Hephestus. The three large floor to ceiling windows allowed the hazy orange light to illuminate his office. He glanced outside to quietly watch the fish and magma navigate its way through the ocean and over the ocean floor. Looking past those he saw the towering structures of the rest of the city, the many glass walkways that connected all of the parts together. He thought he could see a couple walking together, maybe a constable patrolling for any splicers. It had gotten like that now. A constable near enough on every walkway due to this splicer problem. The upper class areas were better protected than the poor areas.   
  
Kyburz himself had become so paranoid that he’d placed two sentry turrets outside his office. They were an amazing piece of technology. They could read people’s genetic signatures, so long as you programmed it right, any splicer would be cut down. Their bodies would be riddled with bullets.   
  
They were invented by Doctor Gilbert Alexander and were now sold by McClendon Robotics. Apparently they were talking about making better turrets, more advanced ones with deadlier weapons.  
  
Gilbert Alexander was one of the many doctors who worked for Fontaine, so he was honestly surprised that Fontaine had green lit Gilbert selling the designer to McClendon. Unless Fontaine had profited out of it in some way. Knowing that bastard he probably had.   
  
A knock at the door made him jump and he turned in his seat to see Pablo standing at the door, but he looked nervous. Shifty even, eyes darting around and his fingers were constantly twitching. Kyburz saw little sparks of electricity flicking at the ends of Pablo’s fingers and he couldn’t help tensing up a little at the sight. He’d known all along that plasmids and tonics were a bad thing, watching people slowly deteriorate over the past year was proof of that. Only a year and these guys had mostly turned into homicidal maniacs.   
  
“Can I help you with something, Pablo?” He asked carefully, his hand reaching for his gun that he kept in his second draw.   
  
Kyburz may of had his reservations about owning a gun at first, but after almost having his head taken off by a splicer, he lost those reservations pretty quickly. He didn’t know if he’d have the guts to shoot him, but he didn’t want to be caught off guard. You couldn’t trust a splicer and whilst Pablo insisted he wasn’t one, he was getting worse. You’d see it, day by day, he’d become more irritable or a little more paranoid. Nothing like the man he had been.   
  
“Do you believe in ghosts?”   
  
That… was not what Kyburz had been expecting. Frowning, he looked the man over and realised that Pablo wasn’t being shifty, he was scared. Freaked out. The only other time Kyburz had seen the man like this was that time they’d spoken about Persephone.  
  
“What?”   
  
Pablo licked his lips, looking around the room again, before he started walking down the steps towards Kyburz’s desk. Kyburz himself had let go of the gun, but he kept the draw open, just in case.   
  
“I said…” Pablo stated again, taking a seat opposite him. “Do you believe in ghosts? Spirits? That kind of thing.”  
  
“I’m a man of science, Pablo,” Kyburz frowned at him. “Ghosts aren’t real.”   
  
Pablo laughed. A hollow and detached sound, that sounded devoid of happiness. He sounded more hysterical at the verge of having a nervous break down.   
  
“Yeah, ya’ see,” Pablo went on, rubbing at the back of his neck, not looking at Kyburz’s face. “I thought that too. I believed that ghosts weren’t real. Just… a load of rubbish, ya know?”   
  
“Yes…” Kyburz nodded, gradually getting more concerned the more Pablo fidgeted.   
  
“Well… I..” He looked down, before looking up earnestly at Kyburz. “I saw a ghost. I saw one and.. and then more started showing up…” he licked his lips. “Kyburz I feel like everywhere I’m gonna look I’m gonna see ghosts!”   
  
“Whoa, whoa,” he held his hands up. “Slow down… what do you mean you saw ghosts?”   
  
Pablo sighed, rubbing at his eyes a moment before continuing. “You remember Angelina? Oh, well, maybe you wouldn’t since the only woman who can make you stand to attention is Em, but anyway,” he continued before Kyburz could snap at him for his comment. “Angelina used to be one of those kinds of dames that… slept around ya’ know? She spliced up nice ’n pretty like… well, she got murdered by one of her companions. They’s spliced up crazy too and.. and they removed her fuckin’ head Kyburz!” He made a slicing motion with his hand. “They sliced her head clean off, just like that,” he looked up, grinning wide and manic, too much gum and teeth on show for it to be considered a real grin. “Isn’t that crazy? Just like that!”  
  
“Yeah… crazy…” he frowned at him. “What has this got to do with you seeing ghosts?”   
  
“I saw her… Kyburz I swear I saw her!” He blinked rapidly at him. “She was all white and fuzzy looking but it was her. I heard her voice, she sounded like she was talking to someone. Someone I couldn’t see. She leaned on one of the trees in Arcadia and said something about being spliced up in ways that you wouldn’t dream,” he rubbed at his temples staring at the floor. “I know I sound crazy, but I swear to you that’s what I saw! I saw her!”  
  
“Okay, okay,” he held his hand up in a calm down motion. “I believe you, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this,” he wasn’t sure what that was, but he refused to believe it was really ghosts. “I mean, c’mon Pablo, we’re men of science you and me. We’ll be able to figure it out.”   
  
The man opposite him sighed, looking defeated for a brief moment. Kyburz could understand why, technically Pablo’s mind was turning against him, still didn’t explain the ghost though. Maybe it had been a hallucination? That made sense right? But if Pablo was hallucinating then he was worried.   
  
Their workforce had already gone down by thirty percent due to deaths and splicing. Most of the deaths were now due to splicers. If a man spliced up too much than they saw Hephestus as a playground. Now days, it wasn’t bolts and screws you had to be careful of dropping on your head, but a full grown person. Either it be a splicer jumping down from a great height just to cartwheel away or a splicer throwing someone from a great height. Some splicers had even decided to chuck people into the vats of molten metal. There wasn’t anything to pull out afterwards.   
  
If you didn’t get killed in the workplace you might get killed on your way home. Maybe at the groceries and one splicer decided he didn’t like the food at a restaurant just decided to torch the place and kill everyone inside. It was a minefield out there and the worst part of it all was, Ryan wasn’t doing anything about it. Sure he’d doubled the guards around the places that could afford it and people were installing more and more cameras and turrets. They were past the point of that helping however. They needed more, they needed the plasmids and tonics to be taken off the shelves, but Ryan wouldn’t do that because it was a free market.  
  
Free market. It sounded like such a wonderful idea at the start. A place where you could sell whatever you wanted and not worry about the government being on your back. Kyburz had been all for it, he’d truly believed that it would be a fantastic way of life, he just hadn’t taken into account some of the maniacs Ryan had invited down here. Cicil, Cohen, Steinman, Suchong, LaLorna, goddamn Frank Fontaine. What was Ryan thinking?   
  
“You don’t think I’m crazy do you?” Pablo asked, still looking at the floor, his hands twitching and sparking like usual. “I’m not crazy, Kyburz. I’m not fuckin’ crazy, I swear!”   
  
“I know,” he started carefully. “But do you think that maybe… it could be the ADAM?”   
  
Immediately Pablo shot up in his seat, eyes blazing and glowing with the hungry power of the plasmids, his hands sparking with both incinerate and electrobolt. Kyburz had stood up also, gun pointed directly at Pablo’s head. He wasn’t taking any risks.   
  
“I ain’t no fuckin’ splicer, Kyburz!” Pablo screamed. “I ain’t crazy, I ain’t sick! I ain’t no goddamn splicer!”   
  
“Yeah, I know, but you wanna calm down ya’ bloody lunatic!” He snapped at him, his hand shaking violently.  
  
Kyburz had never shot anyone before in his life. Hell, he’d never fired a gun. Never needed to. He did not want the first bullet he ever fired to be directly into his friend’s skull. He didn’t want to kill him, but if he had to… dear god if he had to…   
  
“I’m no splicer! I’m not a splicer!”   
  
“Yeah, then prove it!” Kyburz shouted. “Put your hands out now!”   
  
“I’m not crazy!”  
  
“Pablo put ya’ fucking hands out!” He screamed at him. “Don’t make me do this!”   
  
Pablo was breathing heavily, with each breath his eyes seemed to pulse with light. The colour flickered between fiery red and electric blue, before finally going dormant. The man lowered his arms, the flames and sparks leaving his finger tips completely as he took deep breaths.   
  
Slowly, Kyburz lowered his gun, staring back at the man who looked like a stranger. A few growths had begun to form along the side of his face and down the visible parts of his arms. Finally, something like realisation and clarity flashed in Pablo’s eyes and he sank into the seat, clutching at his head, rocking back and forth.  
  
“Pablo?” Kyburz questioned hesitantly.   
  
“I’m sorry…” Pablo mumbled. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t gonna…”   
  
“I know,” he sighed and sat down, pulling out a bottle of brandy and two glasses, slamming them down on the desk. “I know..” He repeated, pouring the alcohol into the glasses. He felt like he’d began to drink more and more recently. He pushed one glass to Pablo and the man hesitantly took it. “I’m starting to see why Em used to turn to drink when she had a bad day,” Kyburz muttered, idly playing with the glass and staring at the amber liquid inside. “It sure takes the edge off.”   
  
Pablo nodded silently, staring into his own glass.   
  
Kyburz decided to keep talking, if only to fill in the silence. He’d recently bought a record player to listen to. He couldn’t stand the silence. Whilst yes, Hephestus was never quiet, it felt oddly like a ghost town. What once had been a place filled with hustle and bustle of workers, was now filled with quiet foot falls of cautious men going about their work. The sounds of voices, chattering and yells was something Kyburz had always heard in his office. Now all he heard was the monotonous drone of machinery, like everyone living had vanished.   
  
It felt like Hephestus was just a hollowed out shell. People used to call the core the heart of Rapture. Kyburz was starting to see it more as Rapture’s life support.   
  
“I’m not crazy,” Pablo said softly. “I know what I saw.”  
  
“I believe you and I told you, we’ll figure it out,” Kyburz offered a smile. “Look, New Years, we’re all going out right? It’s a party, so you won’t have to worry about any ghosts, you’ll just have to worry about attracting a date.”   
  
Pablo’s mouth twitched upwards slightly, before it finally morphed into a full on grin. “Oh yeah, Aussie? Ya’ think? Who’s to say I ain’t already got a date?”  
  
“Because you would’ve been bragging about it non stop,” he smirked. “I know you.”   
  
He laughed, nodding his head. “Yeah, guess ya’ right boss,” he lifted his hand up with the glass. “Here’s to making it to next year.”   
  
Kyburz smiled, leaning forward and clinking their glasses together. Pablo stayed to finish his drink and they chatted like old times, before the mess of Plasmids and ADAM had completely destroyed what remained of the working class. For a moment, Kyburz could almost imagine that all that ADAM business hadn’t really happened, but one look at the lesions of Pablo’s face and he was rudely reminded.   
  
Pablo placed the glass on the table, getting up to leave, but he paused at the door. Glancing back at Kyburz who was busily putting his brandy away and taking out a record. Noticing that Pablo wasn’t leaving, he looked up at him and frowned a bit.   
  
“You okay?” He asked. He didn’t want to reach for his gun again.   
  
Pablo smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Glad ta see you finally got a gun, Kyburz. About time too.”   
  
“Yeah, well… desperate times and all that.” He shrugged, walking to his record player, haphazardly balanced on top of a filing cabinet.   
  
“Do you.. can we keep what happened here between ourselves?”   
  
He paused, glancing at Pablo who looked nervous and on edge again. Kyburz nodded once. “Of course. Won’t say a word.”   
  
“Right… thanks,” he nodded before smiling. “Well, see ya at New Years I guess…”   
  
“Yeah…” Kyburz sighed as he watched Pablo leave, settling down in his seat as the record began to start up, a south 40s tune filling the air. “See you at New Years..” He whispered, staring at his gun that sat in his desk.   
  
He was still optimistic for things to be fixed, for things to go back to normal. Little moments of the past repeating itself like Pablo and Kyburz sharing a glass gave him hope. It was fading though. That was the funny thing about hope, when you had nothing, hope was about the kindest thing you could offer a person. Or the cruelest. He told himself to hope and pray that things would get better, but he didn’t know why he was trying to fool himself. He’d never been a very good liar after all.

* * *

  
_Brigid Tenenbaum_   
  
_Mass Producing ADAM:_   
  
_The augmentation procedure is a success. The slugs alone could not provide enough ADAM for serious work, but combined with the host… now we have something. The slug is embedded in the lining of the host’s stomach and after the host feeds we induce regurgitation, and then we have twenty, thirty times yield of usable ADAM._   
  
_The problem now is the shortage of hosts. Fontaine says, “Patience, Tenenbaum. Soon the first home for Little Sisters will be open, and that problem will be solved…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so for this chapter I did take out part of the Rapture book and use it, just added some extra bits and took out other stuff. I didn't know how to write about the Little Sisters and that part of the book is so well done I figured I'd use the dialogue for it. Since it explains everything better than I could.


	29. Pack Up Your Troubles

_Bill McDonagh,_   
  
_Rapture Changing:_   
  
_Rapture’s changing, but Ryan can’t see the wolves in the woods. This Fontaine fellow… he’s a crook and a proper tea leaf, but he’s got the ADAM, and that makes him the guv’nor. He’s sinking the profits back into bigger and better Plasmids, building them Fontaine Poorhouses… more like Fontaine recruiting centres… ‘Fore we know it, Bloke’s gonna have an army of splicers, and we’re gonna have ourselves a whole heap of miseries._

* * *

  
Bill sat next to Sullivan as they listened to Ryan go on about Fontaine. They’d been having similar meetings nearly everyday and he went home frazzled on a good day and just plain tired on a bad one. It was getting harder and harder to listen to Ryan, he didn’t look like the great man Bill had met all those years ago on the surface. It felt bloody depressing if he was being frank about it all.  
  
Their current topic was the new buildings Fontaine had bought and was now converting. No one knew what they were being used for. Some had suggested new poor houses, but that just didn’t feel right. These buildings seemed more secretive and he’d been building them in odd places. The poorer sections of Rapture, not to mention he’d also bought the research and study area of Point Prometheus. He was up to something, that much was clear. Then again, when was Fontaine not up to something?  
  
Ryan turned to glare at them. It almost like he believed it was their fault that Fontaine was still around, but truth was it was Ryan’s. He wouldn’t let them raid the Fisheries without evidence and that was all well and good, but when most of Rapture knew it was Fontaine smuggling the goods in? Well, they really did look like the laughing stock. It almost felt like he didn’t want to admit it was Fontaine. Like he was enjoying their rivalry too much, but Bill could tell that Ryan was getting uncomfortable with how close Fontaine was getting to beating him. He was getting desperate, that much was obvious with how he dealt with Sofia Lamb. Hand’t taken long for Ryan to simply make her disappear, not that Bill agreed with that solution. He felt like it was only going to make things worse.  
  
“Have we not been able to gather any information on what Fontaine’s up to with those new buildings?” Ryan demanded. “Not a single thing?”  
  
Bill glanced at Sullivan who shifted uncomfortably. “We’re trying our best, Mister Ryan,” he sighed, looking over his notes. “Fontaine’s not leaving much evidence and no ones talking. They won’t double cross him.”  
  
Probably because they knew double crossing Fontaine meant finding yourself in a watery grave. Or worse. Bill wouldn’t be surprised if Fontaine was using some of the poor sods as test subjects for his plasmids.  
  
“Then you _make_ them double cross him,” Ryan seethed. “He’s making a mockery of me! First Lamb with her communist views and charitable markets. Her ideas and beliefs were bring Rapture down from the foundations and now Fontaine is trying his hand at it too!” He slammed his hands down on the table. “These poor houses are just the start! I’m certain of that. He’ll try something else, he’s trying to undermine me!”  
  
Bill wasn’t brave enough to tell Ryan he already thought Fontaine had.  
  
Frank Fontaine was giving the people what they wanted and it wasn’t just the ADAM. He was giving them a chance, a hope of some kind. Giving them food and shelter, those people would be loyal to him, that was without a doubt. You’d always be loyal to the guy that fed you and kept you warm.  
  
“We’ll get on top of it, Mister Ryan,” Bill assured him, glancing to Sullivan who nodded in agreement. “This splicer business and Fontaine is keeping us on our toes, but we’ll get on top of it. He’ll slip up.”  
  
“We can’t idly wait for him to slip up, Bill,” Ryan hissed. “We have to stop this now. Before it gets out of control.”  
  
“And we will,” Bill said, desperately looking to Sullivan for help. “We’ll get on top of it. I’ll ask around some of the lads I know that work for him. See if they’ve seen or heard anything.”  
  
“I’ll double the constables around Port Neptune,” Sullivan agreed. “We’ll catch him, Mister Ryan. Bill’s right, Fontaine will slip up eventually. The more heat we put on him, the more likely he is to slip up. Even if it’s not him, someone will slip up and then we’ll nab him.”  
  
Ryan seemed to calm down for now, taking his seat and linking his hands together.  
  
“See to it that you do,” he said. “Need I remind both of you that Rapture’s very future is depending on you. We shall not let the parasites win. I refuse to let them undermine everything I have built. Mister Fontaine will have to comply or he’ll have to be handled,” he gave Sullivan a pointed look. “I’m sure he’d make a welcome addition to Persephone, should he decide to continue with his plans.”

* * *

  
“Are you even listening to me, Sander?” Steinman demanded as he watched the artist prattle around, moving this way and that as he continued to direct his disciples.  
  
They were setting up the art exhibition for New Years. It was also something that irritating Lokken woman had a hand in. Steinman would very much like to take a scalpel to her. He’d carve her up nice and pretty. Maybe he’d find something to like about the woman once he’d taken all of her unpleasantness off. Those scars still irritated him whenever he thought about them.  
  
Cohen glared at him a moment. “Steinman, I am an artist and I am trying to create!” He gestured around the room. “Do you think these imbeciles have the faintest idea what they’re doing?! They’d be lost without me!”  
  
Steinman glanced to see Cohen’s four disciples glare at him a moment before continuing with moving around the art pieces they’d painted up or sculpted. It was an odd array of what he could only assume were some sort of mythical beasts from Norse mythology or folklore.  
  
“I’m an artist too!” Steinman hissed. “I ask you to help me create a piece of art work, perhaps a play-.”  
  
“You’re getting blood everywhere! Did you not bother to clean yourself up?!”  
  
“You hardly notice it!” He gestured angrily at the paint splattered floor. “It blends in! Look, you really can’t expect me to believe that this art creation is something you’re proud of? You can’t be that fond of that _bitch_ , surly?”  
  
“Ms Lokken,” Cohen replied snidely. “Was a valuable breath of fresh air. I felt like I was being suffocated,” he gripped his throat and squeezed in over exaggeration.  
  
“I think you’ll find that’s called _strangulation_.”  
  
“Oh shut it you insolent curd!” Cohen battered at Steinman who flinched and glared right back at him. “You are messing with my concentration. How am I expected to create when I have you _yammering away in my ear?_ ”  
  
Steinman felt his fingers twitch for his scalpel. He was aching to use it again, it had been too long since he was able to create a real piece of true art work. Rosa had been spending more time round his work place at night. Saying she was trying to get ahead of schedule and was only trying to help him, but she was hindering him. Hindering him from truly making what he was born to create. Just like everyone topside. He was getting sick of it. He needed to get rid of her some way. Whilst the simple solution would be to fire her, Steinman couldn’t get out the idea of carving away her cheeks to reveal the bone underneath. He was certain it would make a fashion statement and she had been good to him. She’d been useful. Making her beautiful was the least he could do.  
  
Cohen was babbling on and on. Frequently shifting from talking at him and yelling at the four idiots he’d kept under his wing. Steinman had no goddamn idea as to why Cohen bothered with such tedious people, but each to their own he supposed.  
  
“Sander I need you to listen to me,” he hissed. “I have ideas.. plans… you once said you could take me to the stars and truly show my talent, I am asking you to do so.”  
  
Cohen paused a moment and regarded him with a calculating look. “Oh so here you come… crawling back to me after declaring you didn’t need me,” he huffed, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up in the air. “Well I, sir, shall not be swayed. I will ignore your petty attempts to get back in my good graces-“  
  
“I’ll hand you over all my failed canvases for you to do with as you please.”  
  
“On second thoughts I change my mind,” he wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Steinman my dear fellow, you just know how to sweet talk me don’t you? You always were a crafty rascal.”  
  
“I try.”  
  
“You certainly succeed my good friend,” Cohen turned to his disciples. “Set this up as instructed. I shall be back and judge you all later. Do not break anything.”  
  
The disciples watched the two lunatics leave, glancing at each other in annoyance and confusion. Sander Cohen’s mood swings would give you whiplash if you weren’t careful.  
  
“What do we do?” Kyle asked, blinking rapidly at the others. “He never gave us any instructions, what do we do?”  
  
“Just make it look weird,” Cobbs mumbled pushing a sculpture of what looked like a skinned horse. “If in doubt just make it look weird.”

* * *

  
Sander lead Steinman to the Fleet Hall Theatre. He often held meetings like this in his dressing room. Discussions of art work needed to be done in private, so no prying eyes and ears could attempt to steal the ideas. Cohen knew of people who’d tried to steal his work or take credit for it. He would not stand for such things and now he took better precautions.  
  
Cohen’s dressing room held a huge mirror with makeup scattered on the table underneath it. Around the edge of the mirror were glowing bulbs and along with the scattered makeup lay scattered empty bottles of plasmids and tonics. A few used EVE hypos also lay amongst the debris. Costumes were hanging on a rail at the back of the room, there was a table and a lounge seat, with a chair at the dressing table.  
  
Sander gestured to Steinman to sit down, while he took a seat at the dressing table, turning to start correcting his make up.  
  
“Now tell me, my dear fellow,” Cohen said, glancing at Steinman in the mirror. “What is it that you wished to do?”  
  
“I’ve been playing around with some cadavers recently,” Steinman said, looking down at his gloved hands. He was still in his surgeons coat and attire. He hadn’t bothered to take them off. “But this can only satisfy me for so long. I need… more.”  
  
“More you say?” Sander paused in re-drawing his eyebrows on. “Yes.. I know what you mean. Painting and drawing is one thing but to actually sculpture living flesh…” he glanced at Steinman again and smiled. “Well I do envy you in your privilege.”  
  
“Privilege that it may be,” Steinman hissed, sitting back and crossing his arms, reminding Cohen of a sulky child that wasn’t getting its way. “It’s no fun when those idiots insist on looking exactly the same. I aim to create. I know I’m what is considered a handsome man,” he gestured to his face. “But I believe there is true beauty hiding beneath this fragile shell. My true face. I believe that everyone has such a face hiding beneath their perceived perfection,” he folded his hands over his lap. “I simply want to reveal it to the world. Like the goddess intended.”  
  
“Goddess?”  
  
Steinman froze. He looked a little startled, he’d never been so… open with his own beliefs and visions. His visits from Aphrodite were infrequent and as of yet he had not spoken to anyone about them. He knew that they would all think he was crazy, but Steinman knew otherwise. He knew that the goddess of beauty would only reveal herself to a true advocate of beauty itself. Like him. Any of the other, oh what did Cohen call them? Louts? Yes, that sounded right. Well, any of them were just… nothing. To a goddess they were only pieces of clay, to be moulded and remoulded again. That was Steinman’s belief also and he gladly worshiped the goddess in her glory with each cadaver he re-worked. He knew that such acts would not sate her for long, he also could feel the urge to fix living faces. To bring to the fore their true glory.  
  
No one else understood, no one else would see his- their vision, so he hand’t bothered to speak of her. They didn’t deserve to know. Perhaps, though, Cohen might be the exception. The man had always been a big supporter of Steinman’s work, as a fellow artist, he should understand.  
  
“Aphrodite,” Steinman said plainly. “She visits me and shows me true beauty. She speaks to me in whispers and delivers commands that I am to follow,” he blinked at Cohen who had fully turned in his seat to stare at him. “To make people beautiful you see? She’s seen my talents and wishes to guide me on my journey.”  
  
“I… see?” Cohen raised an eyebrow. “She is… your muse?”  
  
“My guide,” Steinman clarified. “The only one who truly sees what I am capable of.”  
  
Cohen slowly turned back to his mirror. “Is she speaking to you now?”  
  
“No…” Steinman said, looking around the room. “She speaks to me in the medical pavilion. I only see and hear her after I’ve taken my plasmids and tonics. They give me the clarity needed to see her.”  
  
Cohen, who had finished his makeup now gave him a very long and surprisingly level look. “Only _after_?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“No other time?”  
  
“I do not hallucinate, Cohen!”  
  
“No, no…” Cohen waved his hand dismissively. “Of course not. Forgive me, my dear fellow, I’m simply trying to understand.”  
  
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Steinman glanced at Cohen and rose an eyebrow in question, but Cohen seemed just as confused until his eyes lit up and he looked excited.  
  
Quickly he crossed the room and opened the door. To say Steinman was surprised to see who was on the other side was an understatement. Knocking on Sander Cohen’s door was none other than Frank Fontaine and that burly body guard he seemed so fond of taking with him. Cohen seemed to be appreciating the body guard and he wasn’t suitable about it. Steinman just didn’t understand why Fontaine was here in the first place. He didn’t exactly see a man like Fontaine being chummy with Sander Cohen.  
  
To his credit Fontaine didn’t even flinch at the make up or over eccentric nature of Cohen. He smiled politely and offered his hand for a shake which Cohen did.  
  
“Terribly sorry for the delay, Mister Fontaine,” Cohen said, looking not sorry at all. “I was just discussing collaborations with a good friend of mine,” he gestured to Steinman. “You may of heard of famed surgeon Doctor Steinman? Oh, but where are my manners, come in, come in!”  
  
He stood back and let Fontaine inside, his body guard behind him who closed the door. The body guard almost didn’t fit in the room he was so big, he seemed to be staring at Steinman and Cohen in equal measures. Steinman thought he looked a little on edge.  
  
“Doctor Steinman,” he nodded to him. “Met at the anniversary ball, as I recall.”  
  
“Yes…” Steinman said, glaring a little dismissively. “Where you insisted on bringing that insufferable Norwegian _bitch_ ,” he scowled while Cohen rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t you of picked someone who wasn’t so horrifically damaged. It ruined my evening.”  
  
Frank held his arm out to stop the body guard from taking a step further, he looked furious. Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, before he took a step back and crossed his arms. Still standing behind Fontaine.  
  
“Not a fan of Ms Lokken?” Frank grinned at him. “I find her to be quite entertainin’.”  
  
“He’s just moping because she cut him to ribbons with that barbed tongue of hers,” Cohen explained, waving his hand. “But, I must say we can agree, Mister Fontaine, the little Valkyrie is an entertaining individual.”  
  
Fontaine smiled tightly, pocketing his hands a moment. “Sure is. Anyway, I take it ya got my letter?”  
  
“Indeed! I must say… I’m intrigued by this new little invention of yours…” he grinned placing a hand on his chest. “And you exclusively advertised it to little old me.”  
  
Fontaine kept his smile on and even winked at Cohen, making Steinman roll his eyes. It was clear the other was simply playing the artist but Cohen didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t mind.  
  
“Well Rapture’s most _prominent_ artist deserves special treatment,” Frank drawled, “But you said you wanted to talk, Cohen, so here I am.”  
  
“Hmm…” Cohen smiled, the one that hinted towards his more mischievous side. “That you are…” he let his eyes trail up and down Fontaine’s figure, not bothering to be subtle. Frank didn’t flinch, which Steinman was surprised by. Obviously he must of been expecting this kind of reaction from Cohen. “Though I must admit I didn’t think you’d have company with you, then again neither did I,” he glanced at Steinman. “Funny how things turn out, wouldn’t you say? Almost like a play,” Cohen looked back at Fontaine with a sharpness in his gaze. “And we’re all _actors_.”  
  
Fontaine stared at him, he looked just a little put out, before it melted away from him and he offered his sharp grin. “All the world’s a stage and all the men and women are merely players. They have their exists and their entrances and one man in his life time plays many parts, his acts being seven stages.”  
  
“Shakespeare?” Cohen looked delighted. “You surprise me more and more, Mister Fontaine.”  
  
“Eh, I dabbled,” Frank shrugged. “What did you want to talk about, Cohen? I got other meetings to get through today.”  
  
“Of course,” he waved his hand. “Businessman like you, always busy I should imagine…” he took a seat, gesturing to the lounge chair next to Steinman. “Do take a seat.”  
  
“If it’s all the same to you, Sander I’ll be going now,” Steinman said, getting to his feet and wiping down his leather uniform. “I have patients to tend to.”  
  
“Bullshit.” The artist replied primly.  
  
“Be that as it may, I am busy,” he said, walking past the body guard and gripping the door handle. “I’ll come down when you’re not busy.”  
  
“I’m always busy.”  
  
“Fine. When you’re not too busy.”  
  
“Never such a moment.”  
  
Steinman stared at him, before turning back to the door. “I’ll just come when I like then.”  
  
“That would make more sense, but I have the right to turn you away if you’re distracting.”  
  
He rolled his eyes, opening the door and stepping out. He let it close behind him and the only evidence that Doctor Steinman had ever been there, was the bloody glove print left on the door handle.

* * *

  
Em watched Clayton run back and forth, out of his new room and into the living room of their new apartment, grabbing his things and running back. He’d been doing it since they set up his bed a few bookshelves, as well as a desk. He was now busily getting everything ready and in its proper place.  
  
She’d never seen him so energised. He was probably just excited to have his own room all to himself and not having to share with the living room. A few of her friends had come round to drop off house warming presents, hence the bookshelves for Clayton as well as his own desk.  
  
Emilie glanced up at the sound of noises coming from the hall, only to see Daniel, Kyburz and Pablo trying to move her sofa through the door. It was the old one she had from the Drop, but it was the only one she had. Maybe she’d save up and get a better one, but that would take time. Eventually, they managed to work it through the door and placed it down on the floor. Opal came in shortly after them, carrying the food bags.  
  
Em and Opal quickly began to put the food away, while the three men got up to collect the rest of the boxes and move them inside.  
  
As they were putting the food away, Em noticed that Opal wasn’t quite herself. She looked worried, the frown lines hand’t left her face. Usually she would be all smiles, so if Opal was worrying it was most likely about her sister.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Opal blinked and looked back at her. “I.. no, not really,” she sighed putting some tinned goods away in a cupboard. “I’m worried about Rosa.”  
  
“I figured as much,” Em said softly, putting the last bit of food away. “What are you worried about?”  
  
“Steinman,” she hissed the name out. “The man is insane, I swear it.”  
  
“I haven’t seen much of him,” Em admitted, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “But when I did meet him… he wasn’t the nicest person.”  
  
“He _isn’t_ and now he’s taking plasmids and tonics,” she ran a hand through her hair. “I’d expected her to see just how insane he truly was, but then she just… didn’t. Instead she’s been staying later to give him extra help,” she scowled at the counter top. “My sister has too big of a heart,” sighing she glanced up at Em and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. This is your big moving day, I shouldn’t bring down the mood.”  
  
“No, it’s okay,” she placed a comforting hand on Opal’s shoulder, offering a smile. “I get it. Believe me. I may not have a sister, but I have a son,” she hooked a thumb in his general direction. “He spends time with Fontaine and that caused me to split hairs I swear.”  
  
“What did you do?”  
  
“I let him,” she shrugged. “At first I was going to do something, but then I’d be the bad guy. Clayton’s smart, I have no doubt he’ll figure out who Fontaine really is,” she paused a moment and sighed, looking at the floor. “Truth is, I worry. Sometimes I see the way Clayton looks at Fontaine and…”  
  
“And what?”  
  
“It’s admiration and… dare I say it, love?” She frowned, looking up at Opal who looked concerned also. “I think Clayton sees him as a father figure. Ironically, while I do despise the man, he is the most frequent man in Clayton’s life. It makes sense that he’d see Fontaine like that-.”  
  
“But you’re still worried,” Opal finished for her and Em nodded.  
  
“Like you said with Steinman. They’re dangerous people, Opal. You and I both know that, but they don’t or.. they do and they don’t want to admit it.”  
  
“That’s probably closer to the answer with Rosa,” Opal sighed. “She admires him so much she doesn’t want to admit that he’s lost his mind,” she looked at Em, who was staring through the door at her son who was picking up more of his things from his boxes. “But he’s your son. He’s a child, he might not understand what’s going on.”  
  
Em nodded. “Hopefully now we live in a better area he’ll be safer here. I can leave him at home and not bring him with me to the Futuristics building. Thing is, he likes going. He asks to come with me.”  
  
“If you ever need to honey, just drop him off round our apartment,” Opal smiled. “It’s only a floor below and hey, be a bit of practice for me and Daniel.”  
  
Emilie smiled at her. It was good to know she could rely on her friends, especially with how things had gone. Em was glad to get away from the nightmare that was Paupers Drop. After that splicer had fallen and smashed its head on the concrete, she was glad to get away from that place.  
  
Athena’s Square was so much better. For one the square itself was patrolled by Ryan Security and two security cameras sat by the entrance. The middle of the square had a little bistro, just like Olympus Heights and on the other side of the square sat a bookstore, a clothes and shoe shop, as well as a little bakery. There was a direct line line to High Street and Market Street, with pneumo lines stretching across the ceiling.  
  
The apartment complex that Em had moved into was decorated on the outside with gold plating and held a symbol of an owl as its advertisement. Inside the floors were decorated with Art Deco and marble structures, a few potted plants added some greenery to the place. Beautifully decorated glass lights lit up the corridors and casted a shimmering light show on the floor.  
  
Clayton had called it a palace the moment he saw it and Em was inclined to agree. Compared to where they used to live, it was a palace. He’d also exclaimed about how big their apartment was now, since it had more than one room, though he did say Fontaine’s penthouse was even bigger. He was right and Em didn’t know how he knew how big Fontaine’s penthouse was. She couldn’t exactly see Frank Fontaine running play dates.  
  
“Jesus Christ, how man boxes does one woman need?” Pablo huffed as he brought in the last one.  
  
Opal and Em glanced at each other smirking, before they wandered through to join the others in the living room. Daniel, Kyburz and Pablo had all collapsed on to the sofa dramatically, while Clayton ran around them grabbing his things and putting them in his room. Most of the objects were his books.  
  
“I want his energy,” Pablo huffed, as the three men watched the little boy darting around them.  
  
“So do I,” Kyburz agreed.  
  
“What you feeding him, Em?” Daniel asked, looking over at her.  
  
She shrugged, a smile on her face. “He’s just excited, that’s all. Can you blame him?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“He’s just making us look bad,” Pablo muttered. “And unhealthy.”  
  
“Have you seen how many cigarettes you smoke?” Kyburz mumbled from his place on the sofa. “I’m surprised you have lungs left.”  
  
“I got space to fill up with charcoal yet, just you wait.”  
  
“Alright come on,” Opal whacked Daniel’s arm gently. “Lets leave these two to get settled in.”  
  
The three men groaned and got to their feet, Pablo was the first to leave the room. Kyburz said he’d come round tomorrow to see how she was settling in while Daniel and Opal both told her to grab them if she needed anything. Then the apartment was quiet save for the pattering of Clayton’s feet as he moved more of his books.  
  
Em sat down on her sofa, rubbing at her eyes as they looked over the boxes. This was going to take a while, but it would be well worth it. She already felt happier and more at peace here than she did in the Drop. Hell, she didn’t think she ever felt save in the Drop and that was before Plasmids and splicers.  
  
“Mama! Mama!” Startled, Em darted out of her seat, running to Clayton’s room.  
  
“What is it søntos?”  
  
Clayton looked at her, beaming widely as he pulled his curtain back to show a porthole. “I have a _window_!”  
  
She smiled at him, walking forwards to look out of the window in question. Outside, Rapture glowed welcomingly. It really did look beautiful when it was all lit up. Neon signs flickered in the sea, a few fish swam nearby to investigate before swimming away. She could see the Kashmir Restaurant and Rapture Tribune. She even saw a few flickering lights of Fort Frolic. Clayton giggled and pointed at some purple jelly fish that swam past the window, their long trailing bodies bobbed in the water reminding Em of girls in dancing skirts. She realised now that she’d never taken the time to actually look out of the window before. All this beauty she missed and it took Clayton’s curiosity to finally point it out to her.  
  
“Do you wanna see if I have a window?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“Lets go!” She quickly darted out of his room and he was quick to follow her through to her room. They jumped over and around the few boxes Em had bothered to move into her room, up to two floor length curtains. “Here, you grab this one,” she handed him the end and he gripped it, while she grabbed her own. “And now you run that way,” she pointed. “And I’ll run this way, you ready?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“Three, two….” She paused and he looked up at her excitedly, bouncing on his toes. “One. Go!”  
  
They ran in opposite directions until they reached the end. With the curtains out of the way it revealed a huge floor to ceiling window that took up most of the wall.  
  
“Wow!” Clayton grinned as he stood in the middle of the window, fingertips pressing against the glass as he gazed outside. His face little up and he excitedly pointed outside. “Mama look! Look it’s a whale!”  
  
Sure enough a huge blue whale swam past their window. They were both amazed when they heard the whale make its long droning calls. The whale made swimming look so elegant, even for a creature of its size. It looked effortless. Schools of fish swam underneath the whale as it navigated its way through the city, surprisingly not hitting anything. A few turtles darted out of the way, swimming around the whale and trying to catch the jellyfish which bobbed across their window. A starfish sat in the corner of the window and Clayton stared at the many legs it had pressed against the glass as it slowly made its treck across her window.  
  
Already this felt like the best decision she’d made for them. With Both Ryan and Fontaine’s money, she’d easily be able to keep them afloat and happy in this new apartment.  
  
A knock at the door made them jump, but Em just assumed it was Kelly. She’d promised to visit them after work and see if they were settling in nicely. It wasn’t Kelly on the other side of the door, however, instead it was Fontaine and Reggie.  
  
Frank grinned as a frown fell across Em’s face, before slowly it melted into a scowl.  
  
“You know I was actually in a good mood.”  
  
“No need to get nasty, Ms Em,” Frank drawled, he turned to Reggie who place a wooden box in his hand. “I simply felt obliged to bring you a house warming present.”  
  
“You shouldn’t have,” Em drawled, taking the box anyway.  
  
She opened it and was shocked to find a gun resting inside. It was a good model too, better then the little pistol she’d been able to buy. This was a hand cannon. They fired heavier shots and did a hell of a lot more damage, not to mention the power behind the bullet was substantially better than her pistol’s. Along the bottom of the hand cannon sat the bullets, but this all felt too nice for Fontaine, there had to be a catch or a joke to it.  
  
She pulled the gun out, looking it over and then she saw it. The goddamn joke of the whole thing, that Fontaine would probably find funny. Engraved on the side of the gun was the word ‘spitfire’ one of the many names Frank had for her. This one was admittedly more complimentary than the rest but it still irritated her.  
  
Glaring at him, she put the gun back in its box and closed the lid. “Very funny.”  
  
“Thought you’d appreciate it,” he grinned. “Limey was the one who suggested I give ya a gun. Better area, better gun is what she said, I just thought I should add a little ‘me’ to it.”  
  
“You _really_ shouldn’t have,” she rolled her eyes. “Why are you being nice?”  
  
“You’re a valuable asset, Ms Em,” he shrugged. “I got turrets to protect my workers in the facility, but you don’t just work for me, do you? Can’t imagine Ryan would be all that considerate.”  
  
Fontaine was right, Ryan wasn’t that considerate at all. He had a few security cameras but not nearly as many turrets as she thought he would have. Probably because they’d have to pay for them. Sounded like something Ryan would do.  
  
“Mister Fontaine!” Em looked down as Clayton pushed past her legs to wave up at Fontaine. “Hello!”  
  
“Hey kid,” he ruffled his hair. “Lookin’ good. Ya like your new digs?”  
  
“I have a _window_!” Clayton cried. “I’ve got a window, Mister Fontaine! I’ve never had a window before.”  
  
“Well ain’t that somethin’?” He cracked a grin. “Bet you’re gonna be lookin’ out of that nonstop huh?”  
  
“Yeah I am!” Clayton looked down at his shoes and frowned. “Mister Fontaine, why do you have paint on your shoes?”  
  
Fontaine blinked before looking down at his shoes and yeah there were two red paint spots on them. Emilie bit her lip to stop herself from laughing while he scowled at the sight.  
  
“Fuckin’ artists…” he grumbled. “Damn crackpot.”  
  
“Sander Cohen?”  
  
“How’d ya guess?” He smiled tightly at her, running a hand over his head. “Damn lunatic wanted a chat,” he smirked at her for a moment. “And I heard all about your little art collab, not to mention Steinman’s dislike of ya.”  
  
“Steinman’s a manic. I’m glad he doesn’t like me.”  
  
“Makin’ enemies wherever ya’ go, Ms Em,” Frank winked at her. “Can’t keep you in check.”  
  
Em decided not to say anything about his ability to make enemies, instead she smiled at him politely and waved the box in her hand. “Thank you for this. It’s probably the most useful thing you’ve given me.”  
  
“Huh. So my money don’t count?”  
  
“I _earn_ that, Fontaine,” she narrowed her eyes. “Now if that’s all, I’d like you to leave. I have a lot of boxes to get through and dinner to make. We can’t all get a bunch of workers to do it for us.”  
  
She pulled Clayton inside who waved to Fontaine as she slammed the door in his face. She hated, no- despised that man with a passion. She really wished Fontaine would take his own plasmids so someone could shoot him. She had a feeling, however, that Fontaine was going to be sticking around for a while. Like a cockroach. Those little bastards could live even if you cut their heads off, Fontaine seemed to be like that. A constant pest that no matter what you did would always come back. Ryan had his work cut out if he truly wanted to get rid of him.  
  
Clayton was already back in his room and putting his books away. She watched him for a moment before placing the box in her bedroom and returning to her living room to start unpacking her things.  
  
New Years Eve was tomorrow and she wanted her house to be clean and tidy for the new year. She couldn’t believe it would be 1956, she couldn’t believe she’d been in Rapture that long.  
  
She’d arrived in Rapture in 1948 and it felt like the years had flown by. She’d been a twenty three year old woman, head strong and looking forward to a fresh start. Now she was a thirty year old woman, almost thirty one, with a son and settled into her role. She hadn’t planned for this to happen, this wasn’t what she thought would happen to her when she’d been twenty three, but she supposed life worked in mysterious ways. Not exactly in the way you expect it to work either. She certainly hadn’t expected to become a mother before she was thirty and yet here she was with a eight year old son.  
  
Rapture, she supposed, had a funny way of surprising you. Some of those surprises had been less than desirable, but others she had welcomed with open arms. Hopefully, now that her and Clayton were in a new place things would get better. She could only hope, but she didn’t like to hope too much.  
  
Pablo had been right. Sometimes, giving someone hope was the cruelest thing you could do to them.

* * *

  
_Rosa Delores,_   
  
_Their faces:_   
  
_I hear… Doctor Steinman talking to himself… at least I think it’s to himself. I’m getting worried, people keep taking more and more ADAM and their faces… my god their faces…_


	30. Moonlight Cocktail

_O’Riley_   
  
_Sure is something:_   
  
_So that Kelly is… wow, she sure is something. It’s strictly business but, it’s nice just to get a look in. Most dames take one look at my face… and run the other way._

* * *

  
He’d not been looking forward to this meeting, why would he? It was with the biggest stuck up bitch in Rapture and someone who didn’t hesitate to remind Frank exactly where he came from. Fontaine wouldn’t say he had a chip on his shoulder regarding his past status, but it irked him whenever some fat cat brought it up. Especially this woman who was clearly trying too hard to be something she wasn’t.  
  
Frank had seen actors. Both good and bad, while working back stage as a stage boy. He’d seen the greatest actress there’d ever been and he’d been lucky enough to be taught by her.  
  
Amélie LaLorna was no such actress. She was a hack who thought she walked on water and her personality was lacking in anything remotely appealing. Then again he probably wasn’t the best judge of character since Frank didn’t really like anyone. A few exceptions to that rule, but in general most of humanity from his point of view could die out and you wouldn’t see him shedding any tears.  
  
Whilst he’d not been looking forward to this meeting and had been trying to think up ways to avoid it, now he was almost over the moon. He’d been able to keep a straight face, but it was clear that LaLorna had been splicing up like crazy. She’d attempted to cover it up, but her hair was haggard and from the shape of her head scarf she’d obviously lost some of it. A few of her teeth had since fallen out, her lipstick was shakily applied as was her eyeliner. A few growths had appeared on the side of her face that no amount of makeup would cover it up. Also her eyebrows had become fairly bushy, so he was guessing she’d taken the hair growing tonic to combat her hair falling out and probably hadn’t bothered to read the label of how to apply it. Don’t even get him started on her breasts. It was like she’d taken breast grow and hadn’t known when to stop. Enough was enough. You could have too much of a good thing.  
  
She was still dressed in those ridiculous evening dresses that she insisted on wearing at all times, but this time she wore a huge overcoat over the top of it. Frank guessed it was because of her arms being damaged. Her skin looked stretched out and pale. She looked older than she was.  
  
He watched in morbid fascination as blood started to leak out of her eye but she hardly seemed to notice or care. She was here for her plasmid and her plasmid only.  
  
“You’re lookin’ well, Miss LaLorna,” he smiled brightly, her sorry state already putting him in a good mood. So what if it was petty, he couldn’t think of a nicer person this fate could happen to.  
  
“As always, Fontaine,” she replied taking a drag from her cigarette. “For once you seem to have become useful. I always knew your sort would give a worthwhile contribution at some point,” she blew the smoke out of the corner of her mouth and fixed him with an amused look. “The little people like you finally have a purpose.”  
  
His fingers itched to grab his gun, but with the way LaLorna was splicing… well, this was a much better form of revenge. “It was bound to happen’ some time or later,” he smiled, thinking privately about all the mutations that could continue on her face.  
  
To loose her looks, the only thing she had going for her, was the greatest form of payback. It wasn’t just him who felt like this either. When he’d let LaLorna into his office he’d seen Kelly almost doubled over, clearly trying to hide the fact she was laughing. There was a nasty side to Kelly that Frank could appreciate. Hell, most of the woman he seemed to surround himself with had a nasty streak to them. He liked that in a woman. Sometimes he felt women could be crueler than men could. They always seemed to go for the jugular. He didn’t know if it was because some idiotic men seemed to view woman as delicate flowers that needed taking care of that made the vicious women so much more appealing.  
  
Every rose had its thorns after all. Beautiful to look at but if you got too close they’d cut you to ribbons and he’d seen it happen to many of the idiots that thought a woman was a little daisy. A few had done it to Limey when she was younger and got a very rude awakening. Young Frank had been in hysterics.  
  
Or in Ms Em’s case she’d swing round breaking fingers with her hammer. He liked her style, just wished she did it to Ryan’s men more than his. Still, it was entertaining to watch.  
  
Frank pushed the plasmid over to her. It glowed in beautiful colours, flickering between blue, green, purple, red and yellow. It was almost mesmerising, you could get lost just trying to track the colours. He’d asked Suchong about the colour changing aspect and the scientist had just shrugged it off. It was just the unique style of plasmid that made it change colour, nothing more.  
  
LaLorna picked it up, grinning with excitement as she looked it over, turning the bottle in her hands.  
  
“And it works?” She asked, bushy eyebrow raised.  
  
Frank coughed into his hand to stop himself from laughing. “Yes. I have it on good authority from my best scientists.”  
  
She grinned looking down at the plasmid, before she slipped it away in her purse. “I can’t wait to see Cohen’s face! Ha, that bastard won’t know what hit him!”  
  
“No,” Fontaine said, eyes trailing up and down her figure critically. “No he really won’t…”  
  
She didn’t seem to be taking much notice of him, stubbing her cigaret out and turning on her heel in a whirlwind. She marched out of his office, Reggie had just been coming in, but quickly stood to the side to let her pass. He didn’t hide the fact that he was staring. He shut the door seemingly trying to collect himself, before looking up at Frank and reminding the conman of a confused puppy.  
  
“Yeah, I’m with you Reg,” Frank said, laughing. “I’m not entirely sure what _that_ was either.”  
  
“That was that French bitch?” Reggie asked, pointing at the door. “The hell happened to her?”  
  
“What’s it look like to you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Too many plasmids and tonics. That’s why you and Limey ain’t takin’ any. Too dangerous. Don’t care how strong it’d make ya’, you’re good enough as it is.”  
  
“Aww boss.”  
  
“Don’t get soft on me, mook,” he smirked at him, glancing down at what Reggie had in his hands and he frowned. “No.”  
  
“Limey wants to go,” Reggie said holding up the two masquerade mask.  
  
“Then you take her,” Frank bit out, crossing his arms. “I hate costume parties.”  
  
Reggie blinked at him looking a little surprised. “Ya do know how ironic that sounds… right boss?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, the conman don’t like to dress up,” Frank rolled his eyes. “What I do is art, I don’t wanna waste my time with stupid games,” he gestured at the masks. “It’s idiotic.”  
  
The big bruiser smiled and gave a little shrug. “I dunno. It’s kinda’ fun if ya’ ask me.”  
  
“I wasn’t.”  
  
“Technically-.”  
  
“Reggie, you and I both know you don’t do well with ‘technical’, don’t strain yaself.”  
  
“Technically,” Reggie started again. “This is just wearing masks. It’s not full dress up.”  
  
Frank gave him a withering look. It was times like this when he felt like a kid again and Reggie was desperately trying to get him to enjoy activities other kids were doing at his age. Like going to the fairground or the park. Playing games, even the simple ones like tag or catch. The bruiser had tried so hard to get him to act like a kid, but it hadn’t worked. He’d enjoyed the fairground, one of the few times he’d loosened up and laughed, but after that he closed up again. It was better that way. Safer. Safer for him not to get close to anyone again.  
  
Frank had to give Reggie credit, he’d tried and treated him like the kid he was supposed to be. Maybe that was why Frank wasn’t as twisted as others, like Suchong or Tenenbaum. Then he remembered the little girl on the gurney drugged up with a sea-slug in her stomach and it felt like a slap to the face. He was no better, but it was like Tenenbaum said, those little girls couldn’t be hurt. They were indestructible. Cut off a finger it just grew back. They weren’t human anymore and if they weren’t human, they weren’t children either. They’d saved that first ones life too, an awful, truly evil person wouldn’t do that.  
  
He just wanted to make money and if he had to use those ADAM farms to make that money he would. They didn’t feel any pain, least that’s what the Docs had said. The ones he’d be taking in didn’t have anywhere to go. They’d be kept warm, fed well, be kept safe with all the state of the art security. He was doing those little runaways a favour, they should be thanking him.  
  
“Boss?” Reggie looked concerned. The big bruiser always did have a big heart. “You good?”  
  
“Of course,” Frank forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He glanced at the masks and sighed. “You ain’t gonna stop harpin’ at me until I agree, are ya?”  
  
“I would,” Reggie shrugged. “Limes on the other hand…”  
  
“Yeah… when the old girl wants somethin’ she gets it, right?”  
  
“Somethin’ like that.”  
  
“Hmm,” he got up and wandered over. “What are the choices?”  
  
“Oh, Limes picked ‘em out,” he handed Frank his. “Think it’s meant to be a fox.”  
  
“Ya think?”  
  
“All I know is Limey’s is a magpie.”  
  
Frank stared at him. “How fittin’.”

* * *

  
Em leaned down and straightened out Clayton’s green bird mask, before she straightened out his bow tie too. He was beaming up at her from behind his mask, eyes alight and excited. It was his first big New Years party out on the town. Emilie wasn’t usually one to go out on the town all dressed up, but she’d been doing it a lot recently.  
  
She was wearing the blue dress she’d worn to the anniversary ball with Fontaine. She hadn’t worn it since that night, reminded her too much of the bald bastard, but she decided to bring it out again. She did like the dress itself, it would be good to wear it again. Her hair was up in some fancy up-do that Kelly had taught her and her cat mask rested elegantly on her face.  
  
The bathysphere they were in came to stop and Em helped Clayton out, leading him through to Fort Frolic. The group had decided to go to their usual place where they all met up. Clayton was looking around the big atrium with wide eyes. He looked curious and was taking in the area in great detail. He’d never been here of course. He pointed out some of the moving signs that he liked, as well as the giant countdown clock that had appeared just for tonight.  
  
Emilie lead Clayton through the crowds of people all dressed in their best clothing, masquerade masks adoring their faces. Her son was staring at them all, pointing at some of the masks he liked, before full on running when he spotted Kyburz.  
  
The Aussie was standing at the bar ordering drinks, his mask was up which was how Clayton recognised him. He looked a little startled when the eight year old collided with his legs and made him rock back on his heels, but when he saw it was Clayton he smiled. Ruffling his hair a little before commenting on the mask.  
  
Em quickly pulled Clayton away from his legs, saying her hello to Kyburz while he collected the drinks. Turned out he’d also ordered Em a cold orange juice. He lead them over to their table where Pablo was already sitting, smoking and chatting with Daniel while also flirting with Rosa who smiled politely at him. Her sister on the other hand was shooting daggers at Pablo. Kelly was there, hanging off the arm of her date that Em could tell was O’Riley. No mask could cover up those injuries. Then there was Cameal and Sarah, both wearing butterfly masks.  
  
“Mask down, Kyburz,” Daniel reminded him as he placed the drinks down. “Masks off only at midnight. You know that.”  
  
“Hmm,” Pablo grinned and winked at Rosa. “New Years kiss, sound good to you?”  
  
Opal kicked him under the table and he winced, glaring a little at the woman who calmly sipped at her drink, raising an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Like the masks,” Em said as she took her seat, setting Clayton on her knee. “But Daniel’s right, Kyburz. Masks on until midnight.”  
  
“Yeah I know, I know,” he reached up and pulled the dog mask down over his face. “The guy at the bar just couldn’t hear me that’s all.”  
  
“Should speak louder then,” Pablo shrugged while he reached up and fiddled with his rabbit mask a moment. They seemed to be the most popular one going. Probably because Sander Cohen had a hand in making it.  
  
Em looked over all the different masks at their table. Cameal and Sarah were in butterfly masks for obvious reasons. O’Riley wore a bat mask that looked scary and covered up his face. Kelly’s was also a butterfly mask, but only half a butterfly, the other half was a more traditional mask that only covered the eyes. Opal and Daniel both had bird masks on and Rosa’s was again a more traditional eye mask.  
  
“I like the cat mask,” Opal grinned, before looking down at Clayton who was staring up at Opal and Daniel’s with a grin. “And look at that, we match!”  
  
“Yeah!” He grinned. “I really like your mask, Aunt Opal- and yours too, Uncle Daniel.”  
  
Daniel smiled. “Birds of a feather and all that..”  
  
“Ugh,” Pablo rolled his eyes. “Keep ya lovey dovey bullshit to yaself.”  
  
“Hey, watch your language round Clayton,” Kyburz reminded him and Pablo rolled his eyes taking a sip of his drink.  
  
“Kid’s probably heard worse,” he argued.  
  
“Doesn’t mean he needs to hear it now,” Kelly argued back, snuggling up to O’Riley who had his arm wrapped around her. “Oh, Clayton sweetheart, this is O’Riley,” she gestured to him.  
  
Clayton stared at O’Riley, not that he could see much because of the mask, but he could see the side of his head that was badly burnt.  
  
Still, Clayton offered him a smile and a wave. “Hi Mister O’Riley.”  
  
“Hey kid. Nice to meet ya.”  
  
“You and your sailors,” Em mumbled looking fond.  
  
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Can’t blame me. I love a man in uniform,” she winked, smiling up at O’Riley who stared back at her through his mask. “My only annoyance is… I can’t kiss him with that mask on.”  
  
“Good job New Year’s at midnight,” his eyes looked amused. “Unmask unmask!”  
  
“You tease.”  
  
“You’re one to talk.”  
  
“As much as I hate to interrupt,” Em spoke holding up a cigarette. “Anyone got a light? I’m all out of matches.”  
  
Pablo snapped his fingers in answer, producing a flame. He leaned across the table as Em reached her arm out for him to light her cigarette. He made a comment about her still using matches, while Clayton stared at Pablo with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. Of course, from his point of view, the only people he saw use plasmids tried to kill people.  
  
Em hadn’t failed to notice there was a bigger security presence this evening than there had been. Obviously they were expecting trouble of some kind and wanted to be prepared. Just in case.  
  
“You look like Ella Raines, Em” Kelly said as Emilie took off her mask so she could smoke her cigarette a bit easier.  
  
“I… don’t think so… but thanks,” she smiled a little, deciding to slip her mask back on. She was still a little uncomfortable with compliments, but she was getting better. “I thought Ella Raines was dark haired?”  
  
“She is… well, you look like a red head Ella Raines.”  
  
“Who’s Ella Raines?” Clayton asked as he sipped at his orange juice.  
  
“She’s an actress back topside,” Daniel explained. “Your Mum does look like her.”  
  
“Watch it Daniel,” Em teased. “Your wife’s sitting right next to you.”  
  
Daniel shrugged. “I was more of an Eartha Kitt man myself.”  
  
Opal smiled. “My man has good taste.”  
  
The adults laughed while Clayton looked confused. He poked at Em’s arm looking up at her questioningly behind his green feathered bird mask.  
  
“She’s a singer like Opal,” she explained. “And just as beautiful.”  
  
“Aren’t you flirt,” Opal winked. “Sure it isn’t Daniel who should be worried?”  
  
Daniel looked panicked for a moment until Opal gave him a kiss just below his mask. Pablo rolled his eyes at the action looking to Kyburz for some help. The man only shrugged back in return, but the smile never left his face.  
  
They chatted like that for a while. Laughing and joking around. They listened to Clayton talk about some of his inventions that he was making. They bought a round of drinks each, Em sticking with her orange juice. Pablo let Clayton try some of his beer and the boy’s face screwed him and he smacked his lips together a few times, while the adults laughed a little. Pablo egged him on to try again, but Clayton screwed his face up and shook his head.  
  
“You get used to it,” Pablo laughed, patting him on the back. “Just gotta keep practicing.”  
  
“I don’t wanna keep practicing,” Clayton stuck his tongue out. “Tastes horrible.”  
  
Eventually music came on and the various couples began to dance. Opal and Daniel were arguably the best dancers. Daniel could be surprisingly agile on his feet when he wanted to be and Opal just had natural rhythm. Of course, Cameal was the best singly out of all of them. She danced for a living and could kick her leg up higher than most, but Sarah wasn’t the best at dancing. Two left feet just like Kyburz.  
  
Kelly and O’Riley were dancing together, a grin never leaving Kelly’s face and Em liked to think that O’Riley was smiling underneath that bat mask of his.  
  
She glanced back at their table while her and Kyburz swayed to the music. Clayton was talking to Pablo, probably arguing on the taste of beer or something, while Rosa was watching them all dance, a smile on her face.  
  
Diane wasn’t with them tonight, she was apparently spending it with Andrew Ryan up in some big fancy place. Em really thought she was missing out. She couldn’t imagine Ryan being the life of the party.  
  
Kyburz excused himself for a moment, so Em waited patiently by the wall, simply people watching. She did that a lot, it was one of those things she did to pass the time. People tended to say a lot so she watched what they did, often finding their actions more telling than their words.  
  
While she watched the scenes playing out before her, she felt a presence behind her, tensing up when warm breath hit the back of her neck.  
  
“My aren’t you a sight.”  
  
Oh dear god. Really? Here? _He_ was here?  
  
Scowling, she turned to see Fontaine standing next to her, decked out in a mask of his own. It looked like a fox mask. She was surprised he was here, but he seemed pleased to of found her. Probably was planning on ruining her evening, it would fit his sense of humour. Fontaine found other people’s misfortune funny and she was positive he was laughing at the rich while they clambered for his ADAM and Plasmids. When you watched those upper class prats splice up to almost unrecognisable human beings she couldn’t think of a better fate for them. Now they were as ugly on the outside as they were on the inside. She only wished Fontaine would start using his own damn product so everyone could see just how truly vile he was.  
  
“You look like the most demented fox I’ve ever seen,” she replied sharply, crossing her arms.  
  
He looked amused, leaning down to whisper by her ear. “Then you’re a feral cat, dollface.”  
  
She could smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the scent of his expensive cologne, he was standing so close to her. Em shifted uncomfortably, moving away from him a little so she could glare at him again.  
  
“Don’t call me dollface.”  
  
“Sorry,” he smirked, not sounding sorry at all. “Slip of the tongue.”  
  
“Why are you here, Fontaine?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him, even though he couldn’t see it behind her mask. “How’d you even know it was me?”  
  
“Hm. Well, whilst that mask hides a lot,” he placed his hand against the wall, leaning into her personal space a little. “I’d recognise that dress anywhere. You cut a fine figure on the dance floor, Ms Em,” he winked at her. “Not to mention… that mosaic on ya’ back…” he tilted his head so he could view her scars that littered it, until she pressed her back against the wall. He smiled, amused at her antics before continuing. “Well, I’d recognise you anywhere.”  
  
“Should I be flattered or creeped out?”  
  
“Up to you,” he shrugged. “As for why I’m here… well, Limey was just aching to go and I figured.. it is New Years. _A lot_ of things can happen on New Years.”  
  
Em leaned a little into his personal space, not backing down from his attempt to make her feel uncomfortable. “Gonna try to steal a _kiss_ , Frank?”  
  
“I’m a _damn_ good thief.”  
  
Her eyes narrowed at him, but she looked back at the dance floor and spotted Kyburz coming back. Em pushed herself off the wall and wandered over to him, not bothering to say goodbye to Fontaine. That little interaction had unnerved her a little, also brought her mood down a bit. Why did he have to be here? Couldn’t he be away in his ivory tower coming up with more evil plans to bestow on the general public in the coming year? Apparently she wasn’t so lucky.  
  
Kyburz smiled at her, but it slowly dropped off his face as he took in her shaken appearance, gently taking her by the elbows he looked her over. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” she waved him off, pulling out of his grasp. “Just Fontaine, he’s here and-,” she looked back to where she’d been standing but Fontaine wasn’t there anymore. Em frowned before shaking her head and looking back at Kyburz with a smile. “Never mind. Let’s go back to the others, I want to dance some more. How long until midnight?”  
  
Kyburz checked his watch. “Got another hour,” he looked to the entrance of the bar. “I think we’re counting down in the Atrium.”  
  
“Sounds fantastic.”  
  
“Oh, dear Valkyrie!”  
  
“Oh Jesus christ…” Em muttered. “You can’t be serious!”  
  
Em and Kyburz turned to see Sander Cohen quickly approaching them. Even though this was a masquerade ball and Cohen was in a mask you could tell it was him. His over eccentric personality seemed to just exude out of the mask, there was really no point in him wearing it. Cohen was also wearing a rabbit mask, but unlike the others, his was black with gold designs all over it.  
  
“Mister Cohen,” Em greeted. “Enjoying yourself?”  
  
“As much as one can when he’s surrounded by such bores,” his eyes sparked a moment. “Though, have you seen LaLorna?” He giggled. “One too many plasmid shots if you ask me,” Cohen winked. “But, regardless, that’s not why I’m here. You remember our little collab’?”  
  
“Yes…”  
  
She sincerely hoped Cohen wasn’t going to suggest what she thought he was.  
  
“It’s on display tonight!” He grinned. “Just right down the hall in the Cohen Collection… my own little gallery.”  
  
Oh dear god he was.  
  
“I just wanted you to come and see it,” he looked at Kyburz almost critically. “Your little band of friends can come along too…the more the merrier.”  
  
“Sure,” she smiled at him. “We’ll just grab them and be right with you.”  
  
“Excellent. I was sincerely hoping to catch you tonight little valkyrie,” he turned on his heel marching in the direction of the entrance. “Come along, come along! The exhibit awaits!”  
  
Kyburz and Em looked at each other before sighing in unison. There was no saying no to Sander Cohen.  
  
Walking back to their table, they beckoned the others to come over. Em helped Clayton straightened his mask out again, while Kyburz finished off his drink.  
  
“Come on,” she sighed. “We gotta go see Cohen’s art collection I had a hand in.”  
  
Pablo grimaced and looked down at his now empty glass. “I don’t know if I’m drunk enough for this.”  
  
“Just hold your tongue,” Kyburz said.  
  
“You remember who it is ya’ talking to right?” Pablo glanced at Em. “Do I gotta go?”  
  
Em narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sober and I’m going. So is Daniel and Clayton. If we’re suffering through it, so are you.”  
  
“You’re the one who said yes to helpin’ the loon.”  
  
“You think I could say no?” She asked as they made their way out of the bar. “You can’t say no to a man like him.”  
  
“Reminds me of Fontaine,” O’Riley mumbled.  
  
“Which also reminds me,” Em glanced over at Kelly and O’Riley. “Watch yourself, Fontaine’s here tonight."   
  
They looked surprised. Probably as surprised as she was when she was face to face with the man. He just had to be here, it almost felt like he was a bad omen. A warning of what the new year would bring. Kyburz looked damn right miserable at the mention of the man’s name, but Clayton tugged on her dress excitedly.  
  
“Mister Fontaine’s here?” He asked, eyes alight. “Where is he?”  
  
“I don’t know, søntos,” she sighed. “He was there one moment and gone the next.”  
  
“Good riddance,” Kyburz mumbled behind her and she smiled slightly. Clayton, however, scowled at him.  
  
Kyburz spotted the glare and looked a little taken aback by the harshness. Pablo whistled behind him and muttered something about freezing hell over with that look. So it was safe to say that Clayton took after his mother, both in his glare but also his fierce protectiveness of people he liked.  
  
“Fontaine ain’t a good person, kid,” O’Riley said carefully. “Now I remember you. You were the kid at the dock that day, weren’t ya?”  
  
“Yep, that was me!” Clayton said proudly, beaming with a smile once more. “Mister Fontaine likes me.”  
  
“You sure that’s a good thing?” O’Riley asked and Clayton frowned at him.  
  
“Why would it be a bad thing?”  
  
“Just watch yourself, honey,” Opal said, offering a little smile. “Fontaine is… a difficult person, should we say? He’s got more enemies than friends.”  
  
“People might use you against him,” Kyburz said. “So maybe stop advertising that Fontaine likes you.”  
  
Clayton regarded him cooly. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on anyone, Uncle Kyburz.”  
  
“Clayton,” Em warned, and the boy fell silent, turning his attention back to scanning the crowd. “Maybe you should avoid the Fontaine topic all together, Kyburz,” Em said to him.  
  
“Yeah… think I will.”  
  
As they entered the art gallery all parties stopped to take in the crowds of rabbit mask wearing partiers that took no notice of them.  
  
“Eh,” Pablo grimaced thumbing his mask. “Kinda want to take this off now.”  
  
“You can’t yet,” Kelly reminded him with a smile. “Midnight, remember? Unmask, unmask!”  
  
“Yeah. Great.”  
  
They wandered around taking in the art work. Emilie was actually surprised she could recognise some of the creatures that had been painted or sculptured. Much to her delight even Clayton recognised them, excitedly pointing them out. She let go of his hand so he could grab Kelly and O’Riley, dragging them around and pointing out everything he recognised.  
  
Em took this moment to talk to Kyburz about the very obvious issue going on between him and Clayton. Whilst it was true that Kyburz was Clayton’s favourite uncle, her son was as stubborn as she was. Bone in the nose. Guess it ran in the family.  
  
“Hey,” she said as she stood next to him, looking over one of the paintings. Looked like a battle scene, probably Ragnarok. “Listen, I think I should talk to you about Clayton.”  
  
“Why is he so… protective of Fontaine?” Kyburz asked. “Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is? Not to mention how vile he is?”  
  
“I think he does,” Em admitted. “Clayton isn’t stupid and he reads people like a book. I think he knows Fontaine’s a liar, but I also think he’s realised how much of a unique position he’s found himself in.”  
  
“Unique position?”  
  
Em shrugged. “He knows Fontaine likes him. I hate to say it, but he isn’t wrong, Fontaine does like him. For some reason. Your guess is as good as mine on that front, but Clayton knows that Fontaine isn’t exactly an easy person to get along with so..”  
  
“So him being in his good books is a good thing?” Kyburz rose an eyebrow. “Your son is making a power move and he’s only eight years old.”  
  
“Don’t look at me, I didn’t teach him that,” she shrugged, but a frown crossed her face. “But I think Fontaine did.”  
  
Kyburz still looked confused but sighed nodding his head. “Right. So, no talking about how much I loath Fontaine in front of the kid, right?”  
  
“Yeah, something like that,” she admitted. “So… what do you think of the exhibition?”  
  
“I don’t know…” Kyburz looked at the painting in front of him, studying the battle scene depicted on it and grimaced. “Are Norse folk tales always so violent?”  
  
Em took a closer look and spotted Odin being eaten quite violently by Fenrir. “Yeah, but this is more based around the old religion in Norway. If you want old Norse folk tales than you need to look at that,” she pointed to the sculpture that looked like a skinned horse with a rider attached to it.  
  
Kyburz stared for a moment. “And… what is that exactly?”  
  
“It’s a nuckelavee.”  
  
“A what?”  
  
She grinned at him. “A nuckelavee. It comes out of the ocean and kills people. My Papa used to tell me stories about it,” she looked around the exhibit. “He used to tell me stories about all of these things. They were meant to scare me and some of them did, but others were exciting. The battles between the Asier and the Jotunns were always good stories. I enjoyed the stories with Loki the most,” she smiled at Kyburz and shrugged. “Trickster god. He always caused the trouble, but he was the most fun.”  
  
“Huh… and do.. nuckelavee… look like that?” He asked pointing at the skinned horse creature.  
  
Em looked it over. “Yeah, just about. To be honest they’re pretty accurate. I guess Cohen likes dipping in the gore and grime. It’s why he asked me about the folk tales you know? He has a morbid sense of art and wanted to try his hand at this.”  
  
“I see…” Kyburz turned back to the painting of the battle and gestured to it. “So ah, what can you tell me about this one?”  
  
For the next hour they wandered around the exhibit and Em told Kyburz all of the stories and folktales behind each piece. Some she liked more than others. The ones Cohen’s disciples had done seemed to be sticking closer to the source material, whereas Cohen went very much with his artistic licence. Still, Em enjoyed talking about the stories and a few aspects of her culture. She hadn’t spoken about her homeland or these stories in a very long time. Of course she had told them to Clayton like her father had done to her as a child and he enjoyed them, but it was different sharing these stories with one of her friends.  
  
When it was only a few minutes to midnight they wandered out to the Atrium, ready to count down with everyone else. The place was packed, everyone was watching the clock excitedly. Chatter filled the entire atrium, couples were crowded together ready for their New Years kiss.  
  
Opal and Daniel were looking excited while Kelly eyed O’Riley who smiled back at her with his eyes. Pablo was chatting with Kyburz having given up on getting a New Years kiss from Opal’s sister, and Rosa was talking with Sarah and Cameal.  
  
Clayton was at her feet, staring up at the big clock as it got closer and closer to midnight. She idly wondered what the new year would bring. If it would improve any and all this nonsense with the splicing and plasmids would become a distant memory. She wondered who would really be in control of Rapture. Would it still be Ryan or would Fontaine take his place like he’d set out to from the start? So many questions and she wasn’t sure she wanted all of them answered.  
  
Soon the countdown began and people excitedly began to yell the numbers out. You could feel the build up to the big crescendo as the shouting got louder and louder. Clayton was jumping at each number, shouting them out, alternating between English and Norwegian which made Em smile.  
  
“Three…. two… one… _Happy New Year!_ ”  
  
Cheers erupted and couples began embracing each other and kissing. Em turned to Kyburz who looked like he wanted to ask her a question, but before he could even get the words out, she was abruptly span around. She would’ve yelled at the person who had span her, but couldn’t due to that person’s lips being firmly pressed to her own.  
  
Emilie was not proud of the surprised squeak that left her mouth. Her eyes were wide like saucers and then she smelt that expensive cologne she knew and had grown to hate.  
  
Angrily she shoved hard at the man’s chest, glaring heatedly at a smirking Fontaine.  
  
He reached a hand up and slowly removed his mask offering her a wink. “I told ya’,” he drawled, giving a little shrug, the smirk growing on his face. He took a few steps backwards, the damn smirk never leaving and disappeared into the crowd of people.  
  
She was seething, hands clenched angrily at her sides, her face red in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Clayton gently tugged at her dress, gazing up at her with a look of concern.  
  
“Mama?”  
  
“Stay with Kyburz, Clayton.”  
  
She pushed through the crowd, removing the mask as she went, angrily chucking it to the floor as she chased after Fontaine. It wasn’t hard for her to spot him. He was already leaving, alongside Limey and Reggie, their own masks held loosely in their hands. They walked out into the hallway to the Rapture Metro, no doubt heading for Fontaine’s own private bathysphere, because the lucky bastard could afford one.  
  
“Hey!” She shouted and she knew by his posture that he was smirking.  
  
“Ms Em?” He said, slowly turning around and wearing that irritating smirk still. “You here for a second ki-?” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as her fist collided with his jaw.  
  
Frank stumbled back a little from the hit, reaching a hand up to wipe at his lip. She couldn’t describe how good it felt to see that bastard bleed for once. He wiped the blood away, looking at his now blood stained finger tips before looking back at her… and smirked.  
  
“Most women slap me.”  
  
“Are you surprised?” She sneered. “Do you make a habit of kissing unsuspecting women?”  
  
“I did tell you I was a good thief.”  
  
“Good thieves get away with it!”  
  
He laughed, tossing his mask to Reggie who caught it. Turning back to her, he pocketed his hands looking amused and maybe just a little irritated. “Not if that wasn’t their intention,” he replied coldly. “What can I say, Ms Em? I enjoy irritating you,” he grinned. “And let’s not forget, I also employ you. Could just as easily get rid of ya’, wonder how long you’d be able to keep that nice new apartment if ya’ no longer have my payment,” he tilted his head in mock thought. “My guessin’ not long,” he walked up to her, using his slight height on her to his advantage. “Don’t forget, I own you. You might like to think Ryan has a hand in your income, but let’s be honest, that tight bastard don’t pay you what you deserve. Not like I do,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I own you, dollface. You may not like it, but ya gonna live with it or else yous and Clayton will be packin’ up and movin’ back to the Drop. I’m awful fond of the kid so I’d hate to see his little heart break like that. I mean,” he leaned away from her so he could smirk coldly. “He was awful pleased with that window.”  
  
She was seething. Hands clenched angrily at her side while she glared defiantly at him, she spat in his face.  
  
Frank sighed dramatically before gripping her chin harshly and forced her to look at him. “Ya got heart kid,” he admitted. “I’ll give ya that, but I don’t think hearts gonna do much against them splicers,” he squeezed her jaw a little. “And it’d be a shame ta waste a face like yours.”  
  
Angrily she smacked his hand away and Fontaine wiped at his face. Even as he did this he took the time to look her up and down, nodding in appreciation.  
  
“Hell. It’d be a waste of damn good body too. Splicers wouldn’t know how to appreciate it, not like I would.”  
  
“Go to hell!”  
  
“Oh, haven’t you caught up, sweetheart?” He sneered at her, gesturing around them. “We’re already there.”  
  
“Screw you, Fontaine!”  
  
“Only if you ask nicely,” he winked at her, taking a few steps backwards. “Don’t forget about our contract. I’m the only one who’s ever appreciated you and treated ya’ with respect for your mind and skill. All those other big shots wouldn’t of given you a second look in. I let ya mouth of ta me none stop and I haven’t sent ya’ packing. You think anyone else would allow that? Ya think Ryan would allow that? I bet he wouldn’t.”  
  
“You’re saying all this like it was for my benefit,” she snarled. “But we both know, you just enjoy toying with me too much to let me go.”  
  
“Guilty,” he said, holding his hand up. “But like I told you. Ya’ a valuable source of entertainment, Ms Em. Especially when you’re in a mood,” he cracked a grin. “Brightens my day.”  
  
She watched him turn and walk away from her, entering his bathysphere with Limey and Reggie. As Reggie went to close the door of the sphere, Frank suddenly leaned over his shoulder grinning at her.  
  
“Oh and Ms Em?” He called, waving his arm dramatically. “Happy New Year!”  
  
With that Reggie closed the door after Frank sat down and soon the sphere had disappeared from her sight, sinking into the icy depths of the North Atlantic.  
  
Emilie wanted to kill him. Now more than ever did she wish Fontaine would take his own damn plasmids so she could have an excuse to shoot him. Right between the goddamn eyes just like Reggie had shown her. With the goddamn gun Fontaine had given her as a proclaimed ‘house warming’ present. She could appreciate the irony of it.  
  
The others found her later and all agreed to go back to Cameal and Sarah’s apartment in Mercury Suites to calm down. It had been a crazy night and they wanted to talk, but mostly they wanted to keep an eye on Em so she didn’t spiral. They knew what she used to be like when she got stressed. The alcohol would call to her and she drank and drank until she passed out.  
  
Kyburz looked just as angry as she did. He hadn’t stopped clenching his fist the entire ride to Cameal and Sarah’s apartment. On their way they spotted Diane drunkenly trying to get back into her apartment. Face tearstained, mascara running over her cheeks. Obviously her New Years hadn’t been much better than Em’s had.  
  
The girls had wanted to go over and talk to her, but she was already inside before they got a chance. The door slammed shut and they all clearly heard it locking.  
  
They walked up the the steps towards the apartment. Clayton was gripping her hand tightly, in his other hand he carried her mask that she’d thrown away. He was clearly worried about her. She assured him she was fine, even scooping him up in her arms so she could carry him and he could see her smiling, but it did nothing to ease him. He still looked at her unsure of what to do or what was wrong, but knowing something was.  
  
She wanted to try and salvage her night. She’d enjoyed herself until Fontaine had entered the picture, just like he always did. Ruining everything. No matter what that man did he ruined it. Ruined her fun, ruined her mood and she was certain the bastard enjoyed every moment of it.  
  
They reached the apartment, but before Cameal could unlock it, shouting and screams came from LaLorna’s apartment. The group stared for a moment, before they distinctly heard the calls for help. Kyburz, Daniel and O’Riley dashed over, Pablo begrudgingly followed behind them.  
  
“Miss LaLorna?” Kyburz called, banging on the door but only hearing screams answering him.  
  
The women slowly walked over looking cautious. Em was gripping Clayton tightly, watching as Kyburz tried again to get any answer. Rosa ran off to grab a medical box from one of the medical stations that had recently been put up around the city. She knew how to open the compartment to get the box out.  
  
Meanwhile the four men had started to bash the door down, slamming their shoulders into the door as the screaming continued.  
  
The door finally came down, Daniel almost following after it. They only had a fraction of a second to see the mess that LaLorna had turned herself into, before she turned into an explosion of red. Limbs and organs went flying everywhere, staining and coating her apartment and mirrors with her blood. A few of the organs had struck the ceiling so hard they’d splattered and become nothing but a bloody and sticky mess. The worst part was her head, that had rolled out into the hallway, leaning against the railing. Her face was split into five pieces, five eyes, five noses, five lips all splicing across each other. A red seam of flesh and blood ran along each overlapping piece of skin or feature. Her dead eyes stared into the horrific sight of her apartment, mouths open in a silent scream of horror or shock, it was hard to tell what expression her face held.  
  
“I’ve got a med kit- oh my god!” Rosa stared in horror at the sight like everyone else.  
  
“Yeah…” O’Riley gulped. “I don’t think ya’ gonna need that.”  
  
Daniel looked a little pale and covered his mouth looking like he was going to throw up. Gagging into his hand as he turned away from the scene, while Em quickly reach up to cover Clayton’s eyes and hide his face into her neck.  
  
Pablo seemed to come back to himself, getting over his shock, he shrugged his shoulders. “Well…” he began, gazing down at the head in morbid fascination. “Least she saw out the new year with a bang.”

* * *

  
 _Amélie LaLorna,_  
  
 _True owner of the keys:_  
  
 _To think that I the famous and talented LaLorna should be forced to live in such squalor! Ryan has given the keys to Fort Frolic to Cohen, the little man is so insecure and intimidated by real talent he doesn’t know what to do with it. Well I have the next teleport plasmid now. Fontaine explained that his pencil pushes assured him that it was perfectly safe. Now we shall see who is to be in control of Fort Frolic… just… a little tiny drop of the plasmid and… *screams and clattering* I’m splitting! I’m splitting! I’m splitting in_ two!Help! _Someone help!_ Help me! _*screaming continues and the tape abruptly cuts out*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ah... who saw that coming? I feel like the kiss was more shocking than LaLorna's demise... Don't have faulty teleport folks... ends badly. 
> 
> Also I tried to pick masks that I thought suited the characters in some way... had some fun with that :D


	31. 20th Century Blues

_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_The Market is Patient:_   
  
_There has been tremendous pressure to regulate this Plasmid business. There have been side effects: blindness, insanity, death. But what is our ideology if it is not tested? The market does not respond like an infant, shrieking at the first sign of displeasure. The market is patient, and we must be too._

* * *

  
To say Fontaine was furious was an understatement. He was damn right livid.  
  
People quickly got out of his way as he and Reggie marched down the corridors of Fontaine Futuristics. Reggie was carrying a sack by his side, that he swung almost carelessly. Those paying close attention would’ve seen little droplets of blood dripping from the bag onto the floor. If any such observers were present, they smartly didn’t say anything to either man.  
  
Suchong looked startled when Fontaine slammed his office door open, Reggie following behind him and standing just off to the left of Fontaine.  
  
“Mister Fontaine?” Suchong frowned slightly, looking the man over. Frank had done a tremendous job of schooling his face into something that resembled being calm, but his body was tense and he was pacing back and forth in front of Suchong’s desk.  
  
“No slip ups? All the kinks worked out of that teleport plasmid, right?”  
  
Suchong calmly stared back at Fontaine, he glanced at Reggie, standing just to the left and behind Fontaine before nodding. “Yes, Mister Fontaine, Suchong was able to stabilise experimental plasmid. All… kinks worked out, as you say.”  
  
Fontaine smiled, but it was a cruel smile. One full of amusement of joke that Suchong was yet to get. Almost like there was something funny about what Suchong had said.  
  
“Oh… I’m so glad you said that…” he said, snapping his fingers and then Reggie was slamming something bloody and disgusting on his desk. It took Suchong a moment to recognised it as a human head, the face was so distorted. Multiple folds and flaps, almost reminding the mad scientist of a flower just opening and expanding its petals.  
  
Fontaine slammed his hands on the desk, leaning over him, face a picture of rage. “Does that look like ya’ got all the kinks worked out?!”  
  
Suchong blinked at the head before looking back at Fontaine, remarkably calm. “Perhaps.. buyer had a bad reaction to plasmid…”  
  
Frank’s eye twitched. “Ya think?!” He stood up to his full height. “I need to make money, Suchong, money! For that I need customers and these transactions generally work better when said customers are alive!”  
  
Suchong poked at the head with his pen, studying it curiously. “Did customer not pay for plasmid?” He asked as he continued to examine the severed head. He could tell that whoever this had been was a previous heavy user of plasmids and tonics and didn’t use them very well. The teleport plasmid had really messed up the face however. It was hard to tell where the original mutations ended and the teleport mutations began.  
  
“Of course they paid, that ain’t the issue!” Frank snapped. “The issue is, I can’t have customers explodin’ on the regular because you messed up! Enough bad publicity and Ryan will have more than enough excuse to come nosin’ round. You wanna loose your investments, Suchong?”  
  
Suchong grimaced slightly, looking back at Fontaine. “Suchong also said plasmid was experimental.”  
  
Fontaine regarded him a moment. Brushing down his suit calmly before speaking. “Ya know… Sinclair has been kinda slow on deliverin’ test subjects for us… we’re running low,” he gave him a pointed look. “What ya say, Suchong? You wanna test out some… experimental plasmids ya self?”  
  
Suchong gulped slightly, before folding his hands carefully on the desk. “Suchong will work all kinks out of plasmid… no longer experimental. Safe to use.”  
  
They both knew safe was a relative term. No plasmid or tonic was truly safe to use. Still if he stopped people exploding when they tried to teleport then it was as safe as any other plasmid.  
  
Fontaine smiled that charming smile of his, the one he used to lure the suckers in and flirt with the ladies. The one that said; I’m a nice guy, you can trust me. People should really pay more attention to his eyes, because they told a different story entirely.  
  
“Then we’re in business,” he clapped his hands together, rubbing them to generate some warmth. It did get cold in the labs and offices. “I look forward to seeing your work, Doctor.”  
  
“Yes… Mister Fontaine..” Suchong watched the two men leave before he looked back at the head which was still sat on his desk. “Fontaine… scary son of a bitch…” he said to it before rising to his feet to find a jar to put it in. For research purposes. He wondered if the splitting and multiplying was internal as well as external damage. Well, it would be interesting to find out.

* * *

  
“If you ask me,” Kelly said, looking over Em’s newspaper at the front page which featured an article about LaLorna’s death. “She got exactly what she asked for.”  
  
“Yeah? How so?” Em rose an eyebrow. “Don’t think I ever heard LaLorna ask to blow up.”  
  
“Not that,” Kelly pointed at the newspaper. “But she finally got her name on the front page. She achieved her dying wish and don’t you find it funny that the only time she was worth writing about was when she was dead?”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Kelly!” She scowled at her friend. “A woman died.”  
  
Kelly shrugged. “Do you see anyone crying about it? No one liked her, it was hardly a loss.”  
  
“That’s a little cold, Kells.”  
  
“Just saying what everyone’s thinking,” she shrugged a little. “Even you’re not all that het up about LaLorna’s death. No one is. She was a cruel woman. Horrible.”  
  
Em sighed nodding in agreement before putting the paper back on the stand. Amélie LaLorna had been an awful woman. No one liked her. She looked down on everyone and treated them with little respect. She was on the fence about her deserving to blow up.  
  
Glancing down at Clayton who was hanging onto her hand like a lifeline, he was staring at the image on the front page. It was a photograph of the apartment, you could see the scattered limbs and blood staining the place. He’d been there when it happened and hadn’t spoken a word. She didn’t know what he was thinking, he wouldn’t talk about it.  
  
Kelly seemed to notice Clayton’s starring and took his other hand, making him finally tear his eyes away from the front page to stare up at her.  
  
She smiled reassuringly at him. “Honey you know if you need to talk to us you can. Even if you don’t want to talk to me, you can talk to your Mama, you do know that right?”  
  
Clayton nodded slowly, looking up at Em questionably. He let go off Kelly’s hand and reached towards Em, the universal sign of wanting to be picked up and she obliged. She didn’t care if he was eight. He’d seen something no child should ever have to see.  
  
“Come here you,” she said picking him up and resting him on her hip as they began to walk through Market Street. “It’s okay. You can talk to me, you know you can, søntos.”  
  
“I know, Mama,” he said softly, resting his head on her shoulder. “Why did it happen?”  
  
“I.. don’t know,” she frowned slightly as they walked towards the bathysphere ports. “It looked like it was… Plasmid related.”  
  
“I don’t like the super powers. They’re scary.”  
  
“Yeah, they’re plenty scary,” she whispered.  
  
He looked up at her, seeming to be very confused and concerned. “Why does Mister Fontaine still sell them if they’re scary?”  
  
She sighed, not looking at him for a moment, trying to work out how to word it. “Because.. all Mister Fontaine cares about is making money. He doesn’t care who he has to hurt to make that money.”  
  
“But he hasn’t hurt me,” Clayton protested.  
  
“Yes and that is why he’s not dead already,” she replied, glaring out of the window of the bathysphere that they now stood inside. Kelly pulled the lever and they began to descend into the ocean. “He’s not a good person, søntos.”  
  
“I know…” Clayton replied miserably. “But he has moments.”  
  
Kelly rose an eyebrow at Em who looked deeply troubled at Clayton’s ability to forgive Fontaine for what he’d done. Either he was trying to ignore it or he was far more mature than she gave him credit for and he was moving past it. She was leaning more towards the latter. Bottom line, Clayton, for some bizarre reason, liked Fontaine and thus he could do no wrong. It was a childish view of the world, but despite his intelligence, Clayton was still a child. He was still a little boy trying to make sense of the scary world around him. A world that was gradually getting scarier the more years passed by.  
  
The bathysphere docked in place and Em felt sick just being here. The moment they stepped out of the sphere you could tell the atmosphere was different. People were just trying to keep busy. They were ignoring the event that had happened because deep down they all knew it was their fault. It was the first time there had been a plasmid related death due to some fault. Em wasn’t sure which plasmid LaLorna had taken. It couldn’t of been one already on the shelves because no one else, as far as she was aware, had spontaneously blew up.  
  
“It’s been like this all morning,” Kelly explained carefully. “No one wants to mention it.”  
  
“It was all anyone was talking about in Hephestus,” Em said. “Had Pablo describing in great detail what her… ya know,” she pointed at her head and Kelly grimaced nodding.  
  
“Whilst I didn’t like the woman and I think she got what she deserved…” Kelly frowned a little. “That couldn’t of been a.. nice way to go.”  
  
“Gee, ya think, Kells?”  
  
“Well I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’ve never split into a bunch of tiny pieces before.”  
  
“Aunt Kelly!”  
  
“Sorry, sweetie,” Kelly sighed, ruffling Clayton’s hair.  
  
They walked up to the second floor, Limey was waiting for them, handing Em some plans for her to go over. It was down in the labs. Presumably Fontaine didn’t want her near him so she could cool off or so she wouldn’t punch him in the face again. She was still livid about the kiss. Emilie was certain if she saw his face she’d slug him again. He deserved it.  
  
Because the job was in the Labs it meant that she had to leave Clayton with Kelly again, like she usually did. Though she wouldn’t be surprised when she came back up after her work if she found Clayton in Fontaine’s office. Then again, he seemed a little on edge today because of what happened. He might not visit the bastard and she could only pray he wouldn’t. Emilie couldn’t imagine Fontaine being all that sympathetic to Clayton’s trauma.  
  
Down in the lower labs, Em felt deeply uncomfortable. She hated these labs. She’d hated them the moment she’d stepped foot in them. There was just something cold and unforgiving about the place. Maybe it was the industrial feel to them. The cold metal bars and doors for the test subjects private rooms. They reminded Em more of cells.  
  
Today she was tasked with fixing one of their doors. One of the subjects had fried the locking mechanism when trying out a new electrobolt Plasmid. Em had stopped listening after that. She had no desire to find out what had become of that test subject. She’d heard a few whispers around the labs about things going horribly wrong for some of the volunteering test subjects. In all honesty Em was surprised that Fontaine had volunteers. People were desperate, however, so she imagined people would do anything to earn a little extra money.  
  
While she worked on the door, she thought she could hear moaning coming from some of the other cells. She forced herself to ignore it. Whatever it was, it didn’t deserve her attention. She just wanted to do her job and leave. Wrap up in her cozy apartment with her son and just ignore the world outside for a few moments. Out of sight, out of mind. She could forget about some of the horrors out there.  
  
Needless to say this was not how she’d expected her new year to begin.  
  
Eventually she finished her work. Packing up her things to leave, she passed one of the labs on her way back and noticed that the door was slightly ajar. She knew she shouldn’t and she probably wouldn’t like what she saw, but Em couldn’t help her curiosity.  
  
Slowly she approached the door and peered inside. She managed to catch a glimpse of what looked like some kind of specialised diving suit and a drill before the door was abruptly slammed shut by Suchong.  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her, still keeping his hand on the door. “Woman should mind her own business.”  
  
Emilie glared at him. “So I take it your New Years resolution wasn’t a personality change?” She quipped and he only narrowed his eyes further at her from behind his glasses. “What are you doing in there?”  
  
“Fontaine pays you to fix equipment. He does not pay you to ask questions.”  
  
She crossed her arms, looking less than impressed. “And Fontaine pays you not to screw up and you screwed up big, Suchong.”  
  
“Accidents happen,” the man shrugged. “Woman had bad reaction to plasmid. Nothing more.”  
  
“You should put that on the label,” she said. “Warning, some users may experience a bad reaction, these include bleeding of the eyes, hair loss and possible spontaneous explosion.”  
  
Suchong’s lips twitched up at the corner of his mouth, eyes sparkling in amusement. “No one ever reads small print,” he quipped before gesturing to the exit. “Your son is waiting for you.”  
  
She threw him one last glare before walking past him towards the elevator. When she made it back to the more habitable parts of the Futuristics building she wasn’t surprised to find Clayton exactly where she expected him. With Fontaine. He looked a little brighter, but he looked like he’d been crying.  
  
Her defences were up immediately.  
  
“What the hell did you say to him?” She demanded as she entered Fontaine’s office. Clayton quickly ran over to her and hugged her legs. She wasn’t sure if he meant it as a way of greeting or maybe he knew his mother well enough now that he was trying to prevent her from getting any closer to Fontaine.  
  
Frank regarded her a moment. She was pleased to see his split lip from where she’d hit him last night and he shrugged a little. “Kid was upset,” he replied, glancing down at Clayton who still held on to his mother’s legs. “I didn’t know he was there when… ya’ know.”  
  
“He was,” she bent down and picked Clayton up, kissing the top of his head. “He saw it,” she glared at Fontaine. “Did he tell you that?”  
  
“Yes…” he said softly, far softer than Em had ever heard him speak. He seemed to realise this, because no sooner had the soft look crossed his face he replaced it with sharp edges. The ones she was used to. “You fix that door?”  
  
“Yes, I fixed the damn door,” Em snapped, turning on her heel and carrying Clayton outside, she popped him on the floor once they were outside the office and he ran to Kelly’s desk.  
  
“He okay?”  
  
Em jumped a little. She hadn’t been expecting Fontaine to follow them outside. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking off to the left, acting like he didn’t care.  
  
“He saw a woman explode,” Em snarled. “What do you think?”  
  
“Take it easy, doll, just askin’.”  
  
“Don’t call me doll,” she hissed.  
  
He rose an eyebrow at her. “Why? Ya’ gonna slug me again?”  
  
“Don’t know, are you gonna kiss me again.”  
  
“Can’t take a joke, can you?”  
  
“Don’t know what boundaries are, do you?”  
  
Frank grinned, rubbing at his jaw a little. Good. She hoped it still hurt. In all honesty she thought he was lucky it was her that had chased him down and not Kyburz. The look on his face for the rest of the night until LaLorna had exploded was one of poor fury. It looked like he’d wanted to kill Fontaine and Em wasn’t entirely sure if he would or wouldn’t go through with that particular train of thought.  
  
“I can be a decent human being every now and again,” he shrugged. “I like the kid. Just askin’ after him is all.”  
  
She took a few steps towards him, keeping her hands firmly clenched by her side to keep herself calm. “Stay the hell away from my son, Fontaine.”  
  
“You should tell him that. He’s the one that goes lookin’ for me,” he narrowed his eyes. “Do I strike you as a kid person? Enjoy the act that goes into makin’ the little bastards, ain’t too keen on the result myself. As kids go, Clay’ ain’t bad,” Fontaine smirked at her. “Gotta say, he takes after you a lot.”  
  
“Of course he does,” she narrowed her eyes. “Hopefully he’ll have sense enough to know you’re bad news.”  
  
“One can only hope,” he quipped giving her a wink.  
  
Emilie narrowed her eyes before turning around and collecting her son. She didn’t want to spend anymore time here than she had to. Especially around Fontaine. He was a nightmare to deal.  
  
Em noticed Limey slowly walk over to Fontaine, most likely to talk about Plasmid sales or something. It’s the usual thing they discussed.  
  
“Pigtail pulling again, Francis?” Limey whispered to him and Frank span to glare at her.  
  
“The hells you talkin’ about?”  
  
“You’re like a child who wants the girl he likes to pay attention to him, but doesn’t posses the cognitive skills to do so,” she replied looking amused. “So you irritate her instead. Pigtail pulling.”  
  
“You sure ya ain’t taken any ADAM, Limes?” He rose an eyebrow walking past her. “ ‘Cause that sounded like complete bullshit to me.”  
  
“Denial is one of the tells.”  
  
“You’re delusional.”  
  
“I think you’ll find I’m quite sound of mind.”  
  
Frank paused a second, turning to look at her carefully. “You’re in a good mood,” he stated, eyes narrowing a little. “What did you do?”  
  
Limey’s only reply to him was a smile.

* * *

  
Augustus Sinclair glared down at the audio diary he’d received through the pneumo this morning. It was not what he had wanted to hear and now he was sorry tempted to tell Andrew Ryan where to stick it, but he couldn’t very well do that. Ryan paid some of Sinclair’s bills after all. Still, he could say that he was beginning to secretly despise the man.  
  
Maybe to feed his own bitterness or resentment, Sinclair reached forward and hit play on the diary again, just to hear Ryan’s sneering voice come through the speakers.  
  
 _“Need I remind you, Sinclair, that Lamb is your problem now? She is no longer a citizen of Rapture. That was the proviso — you wanted her expertise, and now you have it. Ryan Industries is your client… and we require test candidates from among your charges. The Protectors are… short-lived. Lamb would be a messiah, correct? Well. Sell her a sacrifice to save the flock.”_  
  
“That’s all mighty fine and dandy, Ryan,” Sinclair hissed into the empty room. “But it ain’t your facility that bitch is trying to overrun now, is it?”  
  
Sighing he ran a hand trough his hair. He wasn’t too keen on thinking about that Protector project. Ryan called them protectors of Rapture, they would be the men that would go out day after day to fix Rapture and lay down more foundations. He wanted to laugh. You couldn’t call those things.. ‘men’ anymore. Stuck in those diving suites, he’d only seen the prototypes of course but they were coming this year apparently.  
  
Suchong had been working on them in the Futuristics labs. Frank had been in a pretty good mood when he suddenly had the resources that Ryan needed to make these creatures. Sinclair wasn’t sure of the full ins and outs that went into making them and from what Fontaine had said he probably didn’t want to know. The Plasmid and tonics testing was bad enough and now he hears whispers of Fontaine running out of ADAM. Sinclair was a little nervous of that prospect. He didn’t want to know what those loopy plasmid heads would do when they couldn’t get their fix.  
  
Still, rogue splicers were one thing that these protectors would apparently deal with too. They’d protect the people of Rapture, though Sinclair wasn’t exactly sure how. Sure, those bastards were big and strong, but the only weapons they had were working tools. Though, he supposed if you fired a rivet at someone’s skull it wouldn’t do them much good. Perhaps they’d be good at their job after all. For now he was sceptical, but he’d wait and see. Judge these so called protectors after he saw them in action.  
  
That didn’t solve his problem with Lamb, however. She was getting the prisoners riled up. They were becoming a problem. Rattling their cages and screaming bloody murder. She’d even somehow managed to get through to the more spliced up lot of her little gathering. Ryan may believe that Sofia Lamb was gone for good, but if the screams coming from the rusted cells were anything to go by, Sinclair felt like this was only just the beginning. He wouldn’t say he was getting nervous, but he hated the uncertainty that lingered around the building.  
  
Deciding that getting angry about it wouldn’t solve any of his problems, Sinclair got up and took a walk around his facility. He’d occasionally look into one of the cells out of morbid curiosity, greeted by grinning and grimacing spliced up faces of both men and women. Young and old. Some would even try to reach at him through the bars, but he was far enough away that they couldn’t reach him. Others cussed him out and tried to spit at him. When he walked past a cell a guard was next to, the second the splicer reached its arm out, the guard slammed his baton on the splicer’s arm. There was a sickening crack and the splicer screamed in agony, clutching at its arm and cussing the guard out, who only grinned.  
  
Sinclair sometimes found it difficult to distinguish splicer from guard with how sick and sadistic some of the men under his employ could be. He tried not to think about it, it was better that way.  
  
He found himself standing in a relatively quiet part of Persephone. Gazing down at the sea trench below. Recently, the trench had started to glow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but the trench that had once been a dark never ending abyss, was now a bright blinding centre of white light. It never went out and it meant that Persephone was often lit up like a Christmas tree. Many of the prisoners that were still sane would complain about being unable to sleep. One poor sod had even begged to be thrown away into solitary confinement just so he could sleep. He hadn’t been allowed and the next day the guards had to cut him down from the bed frame. Sinclair supposed he was sleeping now, so at least he got what he wanted in the end.  
  
Augustus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d always believed that Rapture would go down hill eventually, but he wasn’t sure he’d quite envisioned this. He certainly hadn’t envisioned the amount of deaths that were piling up. Near enough everyday he was sure, someone else in Rapture took their last breath. The splicing had made it worse. Best friends butchering each other, babies strangled in cribs, the city was going to hell and quickly. The only person who couldn’t see it was Ryan or maybe the old bastard did and simply didn’t want to admit that his great dream was failing. A lot of people didn’t take criticism well, Sinclair could name many and Andrew Ryan’s name resided at the top.  
  
The screams behind him got louder, so loud that even this little space of quiet was soon invaded by the shouts and screams of lunatics and sane people alike. Sinclair closed his eyes to try and block it out, but if anything that made it worse.  
  
 _Just business,_ he reminded himself, _it’s just good business. You won’t catch me crying over a few rotting corpses, no sir, I’m not the type._ At least that’s what he told himself. To be a good liar after all, you had to have the ability to lie to yourself. Augustus was starting to feel like he was rather loosing his touch.  
  
“Sinclair?”  
  
Augustus blinked and turned to see Sullivan standing just at the edge of the little piece and quiet he’d found. That man Cavendish stood just a few paces behind him. Probably because Cavendish had lead Sullivan to him.  
  
Sinclair didn’t like Patrick Cavendish, he didn’t think anyone did. He was cruel and sadistic, was probably the worst guard he had in his employ. Half Irish, half Suffolk Brit with a wolfish grin and he liked to beat up prisoners, but he was useful when order needed to be put in place.  
  
“Good afternoon, Chief,” he smiled. “And a happy new year to ya’. Got any resolutions?”  
  
“Catchin’ this thief is top of the agenda,” Sullivan grumbled, regarding Sinclair with a look of unease.  
  
“Oh?” Sinclair said. “Your little sneak thief back?”  
  
“Struck out last night while everyone was out partyin’. No one saw a thing,” he frowned. “Ryan ain’t happy ‘bout it.”  
  
“Can’t imagine he would be,” Sinclair said walking over to him. “You good Chief? Wasn’t expectin’ to see you here.”  
  
Sullivan sighed, looking at the floor a moment, he almost looked uneasy. Probably didn’t like being here. “You hear what happened to that actress lady last night?”  
  
“Hard to miss the front page, Chief,” Sinclair replied.  
  
Yes he had read about LaLorna’s unfortunate demise. That teleport plasmid he’d wager. Looked like Frank hadn’t worked all the kinks out of it. Wasn’t as ready as he believed it to be. Still, he couldn’t say he was all that upset. No one liked LaLorna after all.  
  
“You hear anything about it from Fontaine’s end?”  
  
“No,” Sinclair shrugged. “What makes you think I do business with ol’ Frankie anyway? Sure we’ve spoken a bit, but about some of my plasmid sales, nothin’ more.”  
  
Sullivan didn’t look like he believed him, but he didn’t push it. Instead he looked Sinclair over, almost scrutinising him a little.  
  
“You okay, Sinclair?” He asked.  
  
Augustus smiled at him. “Why, I’m just fine and dandy, Chief,” he said walking past him, hands in his pockets he almost looked like he was going out for a stroll.  
  
“You look tired is all.”  
  
Sinclair laughed, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Pot callin’ the kettle black, Chief,” he glanced behind him and offered a grin. “Ya not lookin’ too good ya self. If you don’t mind my sayin’.”  
  
A female splicer suddenly shot her arm out and tried to grab at Sinclair, snarling and cackling at him. Augustus only watched her, eyes roaming over her distorted and damaged face. You could hardly tell that she’d been a person, let alone a woman.  
  
Cavendish moved towards her, baton already drawn.  
  
“It’s alright, Cavendish,” Sinclair said. “She ain’t hurtin’ anyone.”  
  
“Now she ain’t,” Cavendish said, bringing the baton down hard. The splicer shrieked and flinched away from the bars, disappearing into the shadows. Cavendish grinned at Sinclair. “Now she’ll know better.”  
  
“Not sure that’s how it works,” Sullivan said. “They’re too crazy.”  
  
Cavendish shrugged, turning on his heel and walking off, twirling his baton as he went.  
  
Sinclair could feel Sullivan glaring at him. So it seemed it wasn’t just him that disliked Pat Cavendish. He’d been right with his previous assessment, no one liked Cavendish.  
  
He felt Sullivan’s presence next to him, as he continued to glare at the guard, who turned a corner and disappeared from sight.  
  
“I don’t like him,” Sullivan grunted.  
  
“I don’t think Pat Cavendish has many admirers, Chief,” Sinclair replied.  
  
“You hired him, though.”  
  
“Man’s good in a fight and whilst I don’t like or agree with his methods, he gets results,” he pocketed his hands again. “Can’t deny that. Though, I shouldn’t worry Chief,” he offered him a smile, before walking down the hall. “The way this town is, Cavendish will get what’s comin’ to him. Karma seems to be catchin’ up with a lot of folk down here.”  
  
“Heaven help ya when it’s your turn, Sinclair,” Sullivan said. “I’d dread to think what your punishment is gonna be.”  
  
Sinclair stopped in his tracks staring a head of himself, almost like he could see his own future in these cells. His mind briefly went to the protector program and the poor sods that had been placed in it. Turned into those… things. He shook his head, banishing such thoughts. Only turned to Sullivan and offered him a smile.  
  
“I’d be worried ‘bout your own fate, Chief,” he said, flashing him those million dollar Steinman teeth. “Why, one would say the enablers are just as guilty as the perpetrators. Maybe even more so, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
Sullivan looked a little unnerved, but otherwise kept a straight face. “I’ll bare that in mind, Sinclair.”  
  
Sinclair winked at him. “You do that,” he said before turning and walking away.  
  
God he needed a drink or a smoke. Just something to take the edge off. If teleport still wasn’t working then Fontaine would be at his door and if this protector program was ready, then Andrew Ryan would be joining in the demands for test subjects.  
  
Sinclair could feel a headache coming on, so opted to take a drink. He kept a bottle of southern comfort in his desk now days. It had been resting on his desk top more often than not in recent times. Gradually spending less and less time inside his desk and the liquid itself was going down quicker and quicker. Sinclair had never been a heavy drinker, but he was starting to find more comfort in the bottom of the bottle than in a state of being sober.  
  
Taking a seat at his desk once he reached his office, he took out the glass and bottle, pouring the alcohol into the glass while he glared at the audio diary still on his desk. His mood soured immediately, but as he took his first sip and felt the familiar and welcomed sting of the alcohol, he began to think.  
  
What was it Ryan had said? Sell Lamb a sacrifice? Sure, Sinclair could do that, then whoever Lamb chose to condemn to a fate worse than death wouldn’t be his fault. Not directly at least. So it wouldn’t rest on his conscious.  
  
At least that’s what he told himself.  
  
“Just business,” he mumbled, sounding far less confident than he ever had while muttering his reassuring phrase. “Just damn good business.”

* * *

  
_Frank Fontaine,_   
  
_A Moment of Weakness:_   
  
_Fontaine: Damn… scientists… I tell ‘em to iron out the kinks in these plasmids and the next thing I know Ryan’s crew are wiping up the mess that had been LaLorna. Her head was still intact… kinda. Split in multiple parts, five eyes and noses sort of thing, real weird lookin’ and — Clayton what the hell do you want? I’m sorta busy here kid._   
  
_Clayton: I wanted to make sure you were okay, Mister Fontaine._   
  
_Fontaine: The hell… yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?_   
  
_Clayton: Because of what happened to Miss LaLorna!_   
  
_Fontaine: Wait, were you there kid?_   
  
_Clayton: I… I think her head flew past me…_   
  
_Fontaine: Jesus Christ… kid are you alright?_   
  
_Clayton: Y-Yeah I’m fine, I…. I.. *bursts into tears*_   
  
_Fontaine: Oh fuck… Clay’ it… I don’t know what to do or tell ya kid. Bad things happen._   
  
_Clayton: But it… it was horrible!_   
  
_Fontaine: I… yeah… s’pose it was… I try not ta think bout it. Look c’mere._   
  
_Clayton: It was really scary, Mister Fontaine!_   
  
_Fontaine: Yeah… yeah I know kid… I know but it’s gone now… you’re safe now. Ya safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do enjoy writing Em and Fontaine... maybe too much? XD 
> 
> Still, a moment of silence for our fallen character, LaLorna, you will be missed... maybe? I don't know... least you went out as spectacular as you saw yourself...
> 
> And Sinclair isn't having a great time either... why do I like the conmen so much? Uhj! 
> 
> Also Fontaine got those moments of weakness happening more often then he'd probably like... oh well...


	32. The Boogie Man

_Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Extra Munitions:_   
  
_Ryan sent over extra munitions. He must suspect trouble. I’ve locked them up near the Protector Labs and set the code to 1921. I don’t expect we’ll ever be needing them though. Once Big Daddy is ready, nobody cross the Big Daddy._

* * *

  
Eleanor and Clayton sat side by side on the swing set in the Sinclair Deluxe. Clayton knew he wasn’t really supposed to be here, but he’d missed Eleanor and she’d sent him a message; asking him to come and see her. He’d raced down to Paupers Drop quicker than you could blink. Now the two children sat side by side in the least safe part of Rapture.  
  
“Mum’s alive out there, Clayton, I know she is,” Eleanor said, referring to her mother, Doctor Sofia Lamb who’d gone missing. People hadn’t gone looking for her, however. The only person who seemed very concerned was her seven year old daughter, Eleanor.   
  
Eleanor Lamb was a very bright and intelligent little girl. Gifted just like Clayton was in regards to their intelligence, though it seemed that Eleanor understood people in a way Clayton didn’t think he ever would. She was taller than him, with long black hair braided into pigtails. She wore a sweet little pinafore dress and her bright blue eyes scanned the world around her almost clinically.   
  
Clayton nudge her foot with his own. “Do you know where she is? I haven’t heard about Doctor Lamb in a while.”   
  
“No,” Eleanor looked sad. “I keep asking around, when Aunt Gracie isn’t around, but… no one’s talking,” she furrowed her brow. “I think Stanley Poole had something to do with it.”  
  
“The hack writer?”  
  
“He’s not very good, is he?”   
  
“Sander Cohen writes better than him,” Clayton mumbled kicking at the ground. “And Sander Cohen is weird.”   
  
Eleanor giggled, nudging Clayton’s leg with her foot this time. “When have you spoken to Sander Cohen?”  
  
“On New Years.. well, before New Years,” he shuddered a little. “I don’t wanna talk about New Years. I don’t want to think about what happened to Miss LaLorna.”   
  
Eleanor’s smile left her face. “I heard about it. People were talking and this place isn’t very nice anymore,” she frowned, looking towards the exit. “I don’t like exploring. How did you get down here?”   
  
Clayton shrugged a little, pointing over to the wall. “Air vent,” he said, giving her a little smile. “I use them a lot. Help me get around safely. When I see Mister Fontaine I sometimes use them to spy on people, but I don’t go down to the labs,” he frowned. “They scare me.”  
  
“What’s in the labs?”   
  
“I dunno,” Clayton shrugged. “But I don’t want to go there. Mama always comes back looking scared. If they scare my Mama than I don’t want to know what’s down there. My Mama doesn’t get scared of anything.”   
  
Eleanor had a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you think Mister Fontaine would know where my Mum is?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Clayton said, looking up at her. “I could ask him, but I don’t know if he’d tell me anything.”   
  
“Why not?”  
  
“He’s selective with his information,” Clayton explained. “He lies to me and I know he does. I don’t push it. I always get the feeling Mister Fontaine lies for a reason and it must be a good reason.”  
  
“It must be?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “My mum used to say that Mister Fontaine was a bad man.”   
  
“My Mama says the same thing,” he said, shrugging a little and looking ahead of himself. “I know he is, I’m not stupid, but he’s nice to me. He helped me deal with the bullies and now I don’t have any bullies,” he looked back at Eleanor. “If he’s nice to me, he can’t be all bad, right?”   
  
Eleanor nodded her head. “I’d say so. He’s got to be a little nice if he’s good to you.”   
  
“Exactly, but no one seems to get that.”  
  
“Probably because the bad things he does outweigh the good?” Eleanor leaned closer so she could whisper to him. “I heard he kills people.”   
  
Clayton shrugged. “I heard your Mama brainwashes people. Do you think it’s true?”  
  
  
“No!” Eleanor scowled. “Mum was helping people.”   
  
“Well, I don’t believe that Fontaine kills people. It’s the same thing.”   
  
“Yeah, I guess.”   
  
They sat in silence once more, watching the door of the Sinclair Deluxe. The playground they were sitting in was quiet. Clayton remembered the last time he was here it had been over crowded. Now it was like a ghost town, with only them in it. It felt like the Drop was dead or maybe it was the people who were dead. Either spliced up beyond any form of recognition or literally breathing their last breath on the grimy floor.   
  
Clayton was surprised at how accustomed to death he’d become. At first it had scared him and he screamed whenever he saw somebody fall over covered in blood. Gradually, however, the more he saw, the more he got used to it. The more it didn’t really bother him as much. He still didn’t like it, but he wouldn’t scream when he found a body. Just step around and keep moving towards his destination. He wasn’t so sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.   
  
Of course some of the more horrifying deaths still scared him. Like LaLorna’s death or when he’d found a man who’d been completely gutted with a fish hook. The smell had been awful and he still had nightmares about it. His Mama would be there to comfort him every time, holding him and telling him he was safe. She’d draw the curtain back from his window so he could watch the fish and other sea creatures swim past and glow in the lights of the city. He wondered how Eleanor was coping. The Drop was a lot worse than where he lived after all, he only saw the bodies when he went exploring, so he wondered what she thought.   
  
Before he could ask her, they both heard heavy footsteps and a low groaning sound. It reminded Clayton of a whale, but it was coming from inside the building. It was heading towards them.   
  
The two children looked at each other, before looking back at the door curiously.   
  
They saw the shadow of the hulking thing before they saw the thing itself. The thing slowly came into the light and Clayton gripped at the chain of the swing just that little bit tighter than before. He didn’t quite know what he was seeing. Some sort of monster. One that was bigger than the splicers.   
  
The monster was huge, with a large round head and no neck. It had eight glowing yellow eyes, which reminded Clayton of those spiders he’d read about. One of its hands wasn’t a hand at all, but a massive drill that caught the light and swung each time the monster moved. The hand that Clayton could see was bigger than a man’s head. If this thing wanted to, it could pick someone up just by their head. It was the biggest thing he’d ever seen. Easily towering above the men and women of Rapture. It was even bigger than Mister Reggie and Clayton thought Mister Reggie was the biggest person he knew. The monster had a thick, rough looking hide that reminded Clayton of a diving suit. On the monster’s back it seemed to carry two huge tanks of something and the smell the creature gave off was awful. It smelt like a dead body or something that hadn’t had a wash in a very long time.   
  
The heavy foot falls of the monster caused the ground to shake and the chains of the swing set to rattle. It ignored them, walking towards the staircase. Clayton wasn’t so sure how it was going to get up the stairs, but it was able. It was slow and each time it moved it made those low whale like noises.   
  
“What’s that?” Clayton asked staring after it. “What’s it doing?”   
  
“I don’t know, but there’s some debris that fell down at the back because someone used too much brute more,” Eleanor said. “Maybe it’s clearing that away?”  
  
“Why would a monster do that?”  
  
The little girl frowned at him a moment, before looking back at the stair case where the creature had disappeared to. “I don’t think it’s a monster…” she said, her frown deepening. “Did you hear the noises it made?”   
  
“Yeah, they were scary,” Clayton shuddered. “Reminded me of the whales outside.”   
  
“I didn’t think they were scary,” Eleanor said.   
  
“You didn’t?”   
  
“No,” she looked back at him with a frown. “I thought… I thought it sounded sad.”

* * *

  
“Have you seen them?”   
  
“Seen what?” Kyburz asked Pablo as he looked up from his checklist, “The new orphanages Fontaine’s put up? The new teleport plasmid that’s on sale? The fucking splicers that now think they’re Harry Houdini?” He asked looking decidedly not impressed and a hundred percent done with everything as he ticked them off with his fingers.   
  
Pablo shook his head. “None of the above,” he said, fidgeting again. “The Big Daddies.”  
  
“The big what now?”  
  
“The Big Daddies,” Pablo said again like it was obvious. “Ya’ can’t miss ‘em Kyburz. Great big lumbering things in diving suits.”   
  
Kyburz blinked at him. “No… I can’t say I have seen them. What do those do?”   
  
“I dunno. Something about fixing Rapture and laying down foundations to spread the city out.. ya’ know since whilst we may be killing each other a few of us are still increasing the population.”  
  
“Wait… they’re using a machine?” Kyburz asked slowly. “When they’re plenty of people in the Drop who’d kill to earn some money and have the know how to put foundations down?”   
  
“The difference is,” Pablo said, a morbid grin forming across his face. “Ya’ don’t have to pay a machine do ya’?”  
  
“What’s this about paying a machine?” Daniel asked as he came over to them, carrying his toolbox, Em and Bill close behind him.   
  
“Um,” Kyburz gestured to Pablo. “Pablo’s talking about these… what did you call them? Big Daddies?”   
  
“Big Daddies?” Em frowned at them. “What’s one of them?”   
  
“How am I the only one that’s seen ‘em?”   
  
“No I think I’ve seen one…” Daniel said, swapping his toolbox to the other hand. “They’re those things in the diving suits right?”   
  
Pablo nodded his head. “They fuckin’ reek don’t they?”   
  
“They’re big,” Daniel countered with a frown. “And I don’t like the look of that drill on their arm.”   
  
The group jumped at the sound of tools clattering and hitting the floor. They looked to the source only to find that it was Em who had dropped her tools, which was very unlike her and she’d gone a deathly shade of pale. Eyes wide and all colour had left her cheeks, even her lips looked pale.   
  
Bill gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You alright luv?”   
  
“Em what’s wrong?” Kyburz ask, shifting his check list under his arm.   
  
“I…” Em blinked several times, she looked like she was having a hard time putting something together. Almost like she didn’t want to believe what she was thinking. “I… I don’t think… I don’t think they’re machines.”  
  
“What?” Pablo frowned at her. “They gotta be. Ain’t no bastard alive that’s that big.”   
  
“Maybe not naturally…” she whispered. “But I saw.. I saw something in the labs at Fontaine Futuristics.. something Suchong was working on…”   
  
Bill frowned. “Mister Ryan said he was having Suchong work on something. I think I saw it once. They had a bloke in some sort of suit and he was.. underwater. It…” his frown deepened. “He didn’t look comfortable. He looked like he was in pain.”   
  
“The thing I saw was in a diving suit and… it had a drill,” she frowned at the floor. “But it was in the… in the plasmid testing areas. One of the sealed off parts. I… They only do genetic testing in there…”   
  
Kyburz took her hand and Bill rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. Pablo looked like he was scrutinising her a moment, arms firmly crossed and eyes alight with his plasmid power.  
  
“Are you telling me… they spliced something up so it’s a… a huge monster?” He frowned at her. “C’mon… seems a little far fetched don’t it?”   
  
“It’s Fontaine,” Kyburz reminded him harshly. “Don’t think that man’s concerned about ethics.”  
  
“Yeah, but you heard what Bill said,” Daniel said, pointing to the Brit. “These things were commissioned by Ryan… that means they’re a Ryan Industries product.”   
  
“Mister Ryan don’t care much for ethics either,” Bill mumbled. “You heard the speech he gave when ya first got down ‘ere. No ethics or… how’d he describe it…? Petty humanity?”  
  
“Think so…”   
  
“Yeah well, Mister Ryan wouldn’t investigate the plasmids when Fontaine first introduced them. I begged him to, incase of side effects… but he said…” Bill frowned looking away from them all and gave a humourless laugh. “He said it was at their own risks. Bet the stupid sod’s eating his words now.”   
  
They fell silent. Bill was right after all. In the past few weeks of the new year, Rapture had gotten worse. A lot worse. Splicers by the double, new plasmids released… people were now even brewing their own. Now there was this newly released teleport plasmid that seemed to be causing a whole heap of new problems and the artistic community seemed to love it. There were more orphans than the city could cope with, but that was alright, because Fontaine had opened up the new Little Sisters Orphanage. A place that was advertised as being a safe haven for Raptures less fortunate children. Only girls though, that was the strange part. Then there was the.. Little Wonders Educational Facility in Point Prometheus. As well as the ‘Protector Labs’, whatever those were. As far as Em knew, they were a facility connected with Fontaine Futuristics, but she didn’t know what happened in them.   
  
The Little Sisters Orphanage bothered her. She hadn’t been asked to oversee the schematics for it and she’d overseen the schematics for everything. She was Fontaine’s chief engineer after all, but when asked he’d brushed it off by saying it wasn’t worth her time. That the job wasn’t that difficult and he needed her to work on other more important things. It didn’t sit well with her that he was hiding something from her. It made her wonder just what was going on behind closed doors, but she decided she didn’t really want to know.   
  
She kept her head down and worked in the buildings she was allowed in. Point Prometheus was another one that was odd. She’d been there and even had a hand in the Protector Labs, but she wasn’t sure what it was being used for. It just had a lot of storage units and rooms. A few decontamination facilities and an air lock that lead right out into the open water.   
  
The Little Wonders Educational Facility had been another place she’d not been allowed into. Again, she was told it wasn’t a big project and she was needed elsewhere. All of the places she wasn’t allowed to go had something to do with the girls. The orphans that Fontaine was saving or at least that’s how the public viewed it. It made Em uncomfortable. At first she assumed the worst, but Fontaine really wasn’t the type. Not with the way he was protective of Clayton. He seemed to detest the idea of any adult touching a child like… that. She’d been shocked when he flew into a rage at one of the workers who’d eyed Clayton in not the right fashion. He was swiftly taken away and she hadn’t seen him since.   
  
Kelly said he’d been fired, but Em had a guess that the bastard had found himself floating around outside. Sure enough a few weeks later he was found on the seabed and his death was ruled as an accident. So, she was in a firm belief that Fontaine wasn’t doing that but then… what was he doing?   
  
Maybe he was, for once, telling her the truth and the job hadn’t been too difficult. It would have just been wiring up heating for the Orphanage and pretty much the same for the Educational Facility since that was a school for the little girls. So yes, maybe he was telling her the truth, but call her paranoid, she just couldn’t shake the fact that it felt like something else was going on. Fontaine’s facilities always did have a front to them. The fake part that only the public got to see and the part behind it. The real part.   
  
The Fisheries? Smuggling Operation. The Department Store? A place for him to discreetly sell some of his smuggled in goods. The Futuristics building? Human test subjects in the back labs.   
  
Fontaine was so damn tricky because he made you see one thing and was really up to quite another.   
  
“You don’t really think it was a person?” Daniel asked, suddenly looking nervous. “I mean… it was huge, Em. Its hand was bigger than my face.”   
  
“I’m just telling you what I saw,” she said, kneeling down to pick up her tools. “The thing you described sounds like the thing I saw. I just find it odd that if it is a robot.. or a machine… why is it in the genetics labs? Why is it in the plasmid testing facilities?”  
  
“Another question,” Kyburz said. “Is if it is a machine… why is it in a diving suit?”  
  
“Or why did it have air tanks?” Pablo mumbled, staring at the floor.   
  
“It had air tanks?” Em asked and he nodded.   
  
“It’s gotta be a person,” Bill said, still overlooking the rest of Hephestus. “There’s a bloke in them suits.”   
  
“Makes you wonder…” Daniel spoke softly. “If they’re that big… then they must of been spliced…but it makes you wonder.. just what do they look like under those helmets…”   
  
“No it don’t,” Pablo shook his head. “I’ve seen what the bastards outside the helmets look like. I don’t want to know what the seven foot giant built like a fuckin’ wall that’s probably been spliced ta’ high heaven, looks like inside the helmets,” he pointed at them all. “You bastards are gonna have to learn that some things are better off not knowing.”

* * *

  
Brigid Tenenbaum walked through the surprisingly empty hall ways of Fort Frolic. There were a few shoppers but not many. They didn’t pay her any attention. Recently, people had started to go out less and less, because of the splicers. Ryan’s Security was dealing with them the best they could and indeed she’d tested on a few that had been brought to her in Fontaine Futuristics. They often screamed and yelled. She found it very irritating.   
  
Brigid walked towards the back end of Fort Folic, towards Poseidon Plaza. The second half of Fort Frolic that even had a place that connected it to Dionysus Park. She didn’t usually spend any of her time in these places, but now she was here with a mission. One Fontaine had put her up to.   
  
She wasn’t sure what Fontaine was up to now, she just knew that he was starting to come up with a way out. He called it his greatest con. His grifters ace. She thought he was boasting. Like usual. Brigid had finally reached her destination. She stood with her hands in her coat pockets, looking up at the sign advertising Eve’s Garden.   
  
Eve’s Garden was a gentlemen’s club, which was a fancy way of saying it was a strip club, where the girls would moonlight. One Jasmine Jolene was a performer here and as stated by her posters, she was Andrew Ryan’s favourite gal, for reasons that any idiot would be able to work out. It was a well known fact that Andrew Ryan was often moonlighting with Jasmine on the more quieter nights. Frank had seen him one time and then bugged the place to figure out just what was going on and he was not disappointed.   
  
He’d asked Tenenbaum to contact this Jolene woman regarding a certain issue and Brigid had, they’d then agreed to meet before Eve’s officially opened.  
  
She walked up to the doors, that opened automatically, the store owner and few members of the staff didn’t pay her any mind. There was a bar in the corner, a stage in the centre of the room, with a pole in the centre of it. Chairs and tables were scattered around, all empty but were usually filled with lonely men or liars and cheats. Off in the far off corner was a set of slot machines and next to the bar was a set of stairs that lead up to the balcony above, which had more seating areas.   
  
Brigid screwed her nose up in disgust, before she walked up the side of the stage and into the back, where the girls got ready and took a few lucky patrons who could afford their company. There was a door at the end of the corridor and she knocked on it.   
  
“Who is it?” Came a girly and light voice.   
  
“Doctor Tenenbaum, Frau Jolene.”   
  
The door opened just a little and Jasmine Jolene stared timidly out at her. She was a small petite young woman with long wavy blonde hair and startling baby blue eyes. She was the perfect picture of innocence, the only thing that destroyed that illusion was her attire. She was dressed in her workers clothes, a laundry set with high black stockings and heels. A few diamond chains glittered and twinkled along her body and she wore a dressing gown over the top with white fur at the edges.   
  
Andrew Ryan certainly had a type, as that Diane woman he was publicly dating looked scarily similar to Jasmine. She was just clearly older, where as Jasmine was a young thing in her mid to late twenties.   
  
Tenenbaum felt like Andrew Ryan was robbing the cradle a bit.   
  
“Doctor Tenenbaum…” she said, blinking up at her with those big eyes of hers. “Thank you so much for coming.”   
  
“May I come in?” She asked. Brigid wanted to get this over and done with as quick as possible. Her skin was crawling just being here.   
  
“Of course,” the woman stepped aside, opening the door some more and allowing Brigid inside.  
  
The room was sparse. Save for a bed with Jasmine’s Poster above it, a little safe in the corner and a perfume bottle that was resting next to a record player. The record player was being used and a love song played quietly in the back ground. It was very easy to see that Jasmine wanted to be loved and had chosen Andrew Ryan, who most certainly was not there for any such emotional reasons. Jasmine was just easy and uncomplicated company. You paid her some cash or paid her a compliment, she’d believe that was love and was so far from the truth. Had Tenenbaum been any other sort of woman she might have felt sorry for the young dancer.   
  
She had the immature dreams of a little girl who believed her handsome prince would come and save her. She still believed in silly notions like love and that even sillier notion true love. The fairy tale kind. The story book ending that did not exist, but it wasn’t like Jasmine was any angel. There was the business of why she was here after all.   
  
“Would you like a drink?” Jasmine asked, fidgeting a little with her hands.   
  
“No, thank you,” Brigid looked her over. “Have you thought it over?”  
  
“Yes…” the young woman bit her lip. “So.. you promise? You promise it won’t be a real pregnancy…?”  
  
“Yes,” Tenenbaum said. “After you and Ryan have… consummated, we shall remove the fertilised egg and you shall be well compensated for your part,” she shrugged a little. “Ryan need not know.”   
  
Jasmine blinked and looked unsure for a moment. “What… what would you do with the… the…”   
  
“With the infant?”  
  
“Baby,” Jasmine said, looking up at her. “I’m… I’m the baby’s mother. Don’t I have a right to know what will be happening?”   
  
Brigid regarded her carefully. “I thought you did not want this child?”  
  
“Well, no I don’t-.”  
  
“Then its wellbeing is of no concern to you,” she narrowed her eyes. “What shall be done with the child is of no concern to you. Don’t dwell on things that do not matter to you,” she rose an eyebrow. “Unless you have changed your mind? You now wish to keep child?”  
  
“I…” Jasmine bit her lip. “I don’t know.”  
  
“You’ll be payed well, Frau Jolene. You may never have to rely on Ryan again for his money. You’ll be independent, is that not what you want?”   
  
“I… I guess…” Jasmine sighed. The young woman looked deeply uncomfortable. Almost like she was having second thoughts about this. Finally, she looked up at Tenenbaum. “So it’s not a real pregnancy?”   
  
“No.”  
  
“And you’ll just take the egg out after me and Mister Ryan… ya know…?”  
  
“Yes,” she nodded. “No more of your input is required after that.”  
  
“And… and you promise you won’t hurt it? You won’t hurt the baby?”   
  
“I cannot promise that.”  
  
“W-why not?” Jolene cried looking horrified.  
  
Brigid narrowed her eyes. “What did I say about matters that do not concern you? You needn’t think about them, you needn’t concern yourself with such things.”  
  
Jolene sat down on her bed, arms folded protectively over her midsection, almost motherly in nature. Like she was trying to protect the child that was not there yet or maybe she was giving it an apologetic hug. Tenenbaum did not know, she was certainly not the mothering type. She didn’t understand how Jolene could have some form of attachment to a thing she hadn’t even made yet.   
  
Eventually she sighed, eyes closed and looked up at Tenenbaum with watery blue eyes. She’d made her choice it seemed.  
  
“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll contact you once… once I know for sure and then you can take it out and..”  
  
“And you may never let it grace your mind again,” Brigid replied, giving one of her odd little smiles. “I thank you for your cooperation, Frau Jolene.”   
  
As she left the club, Tenenbaum felt an uneasy feeling settle in her stomach. Looking up, she found Suchong was waiting outside for her. It was odd to see him out of his lab coat and in a hat and suit. His circular glasses shone in the light, preventing you from seeing his eyes.   
  
“Well?” He asked in way of greeting.   
  
“She’ll do it,” Tenenbaum said, walking past him, but he soon caught up to walk in step with her. “She was hesitant for a moment, but she agreed in the end.”  
  
He nodded, smiling a little. “Fontaine will be pleased.”   
  
“What does he want with the child?”  
  
“I don’t know, he has not told Suchong,” the man replied, frowning a little. “Suchong believes that Fontaine wishes to have child in possession before he decides childs fate.”  
  
“Must have something to do with genetics,” Tenenbaum said carefully. “Considering who the father is.”   
  
“Suchong has worked that much out for himself,” he snapped, but a smile soon fell across his face. “Frank may be scary son of a bitch, but he is creative. This, Suchong likes about him.”   
  
“Yes…” Tenenbaum said softly, her mind was back on the uneasy feeling she was getting, but she ignored it. “He is certainly very creative…”   
  
For the rest of the day Tenenbaum couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling she had in her gut. She chalked it up to some sort of stomach bug or maybe the Little Sisters with the slugs in their bellies was getting to her, but that was a foolish notion. She was a scientist, she’d done much worse in her time and she could not feel bad for test subjects. Because that’s all they were. Test subjects. These Little Sisters and the child that Jolene would hand over to her. Test Subjects. That’s all they were.   
  
The uneasy feeling didn’t go away. If anything it got worse and Tenenbaum was tempted to consult a Doctor about it. Any other person would’ve been able to tell you what she was feeling was guilt, but such a thing was a foreign emotion for Tenenbaum.   
  
The guilty feeling didn’t stay for long however. It soon morphed into one of hatred and that was an emotion Tenenbaum knew all too well.

* * *

  
_Doctor Gilbert Alexander,_   
  
_The first little brother:_   
  
_I have begun the little brother program, I know Doctor Tenenbaum says it can only be girls, but I need to know the reason why. The hardest part is finding candidates. I need a healthy young boy at a similar age as the girls and… ah… that might just be the ticket… the boy spends enough time around here… no one will notice if he just.. disappears._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're here.... We have finally got the Big Daddies!


	33. Cold, Cold Heart

_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_War has begun:_   
  
_Well it’s finally kicked off. Corporate and political war. Pfft please, more like an all out pissing contest between two apparent grown men. Ryan and Fontaine… both equally got bone in their nose. Means neither is gonna budge._   
  
_I’m staying out of it,I have my son to think about and I don’t want to deal with the casualties. Whilst no one is speaking about it we all know, that once the dust settles and the lights come back on… it’ll either be Ryan or Fontaine left standing, but not both._

* * *

  
Clayton kicked at one of the stones on the ground lazily. It was part of the structure of Rapture that had crumbled away and maybe he should be concerned, but it was becoming so much of a regular occurrence that he hardly noticed it now.  
  
He’d gone out exploring again. He liked his new home, he liked watching the fish out the windows and making things at his table, but he still got bored. It felt like his mind was going a mile a minute and he’d need a new thing to entertain himself.  
  
Exploring was one of his favourite things. There was always something new to see and because he used the air vents to get around, he never got caught. Even when he crawled to the parts of Rapture that you had to pay for, like Arcadia, Clayton would just sneak through the vents. It was a little naughty, Fontaine had warned him not to get caught, but said he didn’t think Clayton was doing anything wrong. He’d worked out a way to get around Ryan’s security, he’d taken the initiative just like Ryan had said he should.  
  
Now he was walking around one of the lower sections of Neptunes Bounty. The weaving pathways and tall towering structures of the fish markets. His Mama had explained that the fish markets topside used to look like this. Bright lights lit the pathways and neon signs added some colour to the otherwise cold and blue corridors.  
  
The market was quiet, a few shops were closed, but their neon signs still glowed welcomingly to them. This section of Neptune’s Bounty was just past the docks and under a few of the other buildings.  
  
Neptune’s Bounty was freezing, Clayton pulled his bomber jacket closer. It used to be his Mama’s but she said it suited him better. One one arm she’d stitched the Norwegian flag, then the Rapture emblem underneath that and on the front of the jacket she’d even stitched Clayton’s name. He liked the little personal touches. He wanted to paint something on the back, like a few of the other bomber jackets he’d seen, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted just yet.  
  
At the sound of voices he froze. Not a typical reaction, but it was what the voices were saying that made him pause. He knew the sound of splicers anywhere. Trained himself to hear the difference so he knew when to hide and when not to. It didn’t surprise him that they were down here. It was cold and dark, a lot of places for them to hide and jump out. Not just that but Ryan’s Security didn’t tend to come down here much.  
  
The voices were getting louder, heading directly towards him and he knew he’d have to hide. Splicers were dangerous, unpredictable monsters. Sometimes they’d pass you by without a second thought, other times they’d rage and scream, intent on dismembering you for some imagined slight.  
  
Clayton hid behind some boxes. Not the best hiding place, but he was small enough to duck behind them. Peeking through the gap in the boxes, he saw the two splicers walking past. A man and woman. Odd. He could’ve sworn he’d heard three voices. Maybe it was the man just doing different voices, they tended to do that. It freaked Clayton out a little.  
  
He watched them walk past, muttering to each other. One of them was dragging along a pipe that was mattered with blood and hair at one end, leaving a trail of blood behind them. The woman was carrying some fish hooks, eyes scanning the area, almost like they were patrolling it.  
  
Clayton screamed as a bloody and twisted grinning face suddenly appeared in front of the gap, looking directly at him.  
  
“Hideeho!” The splicer cackled. “Looks like we got ourselves a little fucking spy! Come here ya little rat!”  
  
The boy shrieked as the splicer collided into the boxes sending them toppling over. Clayton had managed to move out of the way just in time, one of the boxes hit him square in the back and he smacked the floor hard. Tears came to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry. He had to run. He had to get away.  
  
Scrambling to his feet he began to sprint down the street, not looking back. He could hear the splicers chasing after him. Hooting and screeching. It almost felt like they were celebrating a new hunt. Chasing after him, he could hear the sound of that pipe being dragged along the floor, this time it was down to sound threatening.  
  
“Get the little bastard!”  
  
“You’re just here to steal my ADAM!”  
  
“Gonna gut you! Gonna make you spray pretty and red!”  
  
He kept running, feeling the tears run down his face. They were streaming now, but he didn’t have time to think about that. He wouldn’t be able to stay ahead of them for long, he knew that.  
  
Clayton looked around, taking in his surroundings quickly to come up with a plan. Spotting some barrels that were stacked precariously at the edge of the street, he picked up his pace and quickly pushed them over. It wouldn’t stop the splicers completely but it would slow them down.  
  
Sure enough they tripped over a few of them, some of the others they actually leaped over. The female splicer seemed to get tired to dodging the barrels and jumped onto the side of the wall. Using the fish hooks, she crawled along the side of the building spitting and yelling. Sometimes she giggled excitedly, eyes glowing in the dim light of the street.  
  
“Come here dearie! I just want to straighten out ya’ neck!”  
  
Clayton was already sprinting away from them. He turned a corner and tripped over. Expecting to find a rope or box in his path, he was horrified to find a dead body on the floor. It looked like it had been a woman, the body was wearing a dress but it was hard to tell. The head had been completely bashed in and blood was splattered up the wall and pooled around the body, making the wooden floor slippy and smell of copper.  
  
The splicer with the bloody pipe briefly crossed his mind, but he didn’t have time to take in the horror before him, when he heard the splicers again. They were still chasing him.  
  
“Get away from our plaything!” The splicer with the pipe yelled, swinging it around his head. “It’s ours! It’s mine! My bashing bitch! Come here ya little bastard thief!”  
  
He got to his feet, but Clayton was feeling tired. His legs ached, but fear pushed him on, pushed him to keep running. To keep going, not to stop. He wanted to be at home. He wanted to be at home with his Mama where it was safe and not here with the pack of blood thirsty splicers chasing after him. Acting more like a pack of sharks than people.  
  
The problem about the fish markets was the layout. They were a maze. A maze of dark corners and dead ends and that was unfortunately where Clayton found himself. At a dead end.  
  
He stared at it, eyes wide, tears streaming down his face. No this couldn’t be it. He couldn’t die here, he still wanted to see the surface. He wanted to go home and be with his Mama. He wanted to see Mister Fontaine again and learn more about the gifting- grifting, oh whatever it was called! He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die here in the cold and the dark.  
  
He span around, finding the splicers already there. Their sick grins stretched up their faces as they approached him. The one with the pipe dragged it slowly across the floor, the lady with the fish hooks jumped down in front of him and he stumbled backwards onto the floor. Scuttling away from them as far as they could until his back hit the wall.  
  
Their faces were horribly disfigured. Some even looked like they had a few scars and cuts with the mutations. The woman’s lips were curled up and chapped, a few teeth were missing from her mouth and her dress, which might have been pretty at one point, was tattered and blood stained.  
  
The one with the pipe was wearing a fancy waist coat and slacks. He had no shirt or over shirt, his hands were caked in blood up to his elbows. Almost like he’d been clawing and digging his way through a body. His face was missing a nose, it looked like it had flattened against his face, eyes wide and teeth bunched together at the front, cutting his upper lips.  
  
The final splicer carried a wrench, it was also caked with blood. He was dressed in waders and looked like one of the fishery workers. Blood was leaking out of the corner of his mouth and got lost in his scraggily beard. Blood also leaked out of his eyes and nose, one of his eyes was milky white from blindness.  
  
“Caught you…” the female one sing songed. “I’m gonna straighten that neck out ya’ little fucker!”  
  
She launched herself at him and Clayton squeezed his eyes shut… but nothing happened. He felt something warm splatter across his face and he could hear a gurgling sound. It sounded like the female splicer.  
  
Cautiously, almost afraid of what he might see, Clayton opened his eyes. They widened a little when he took in the situation. The female splicer was staring back at him with wide eyes too, but blood was pouring from her neck and she was choking on it. Spitting and coughing the blood up, staining the pale skin around her mouth. Her whole body was shaking from the shock, but soon her eyes rolled up into her skull and she collapsed onto the floor. Her blood slowly began to pool around her head, Clayton moved his feet away from the mess, looking up to see what was going on.  
  
There was a new splicer. One that had fish hooks like the female splicer had and it was attacking the two with the pipe and wrench. This splicer was far more agile than the other two, it also seemed to have the telekinesis plasmid, because it would throw the hooks and then control where they went.  
  
Clayton watched as it jumped onto the back of the one with the pipe, digging its fish hooks into the other’s back before flipping them over and sending the pipe wilding splicer onto its back. The one with the fish hook, then jumped onto the splicer and slammed it’s hooks into its chest. Almost in a frenzy it began gutting the other up.  
  
The wrench splicer screamed in anger and charged at the male splicer with the hooks, who easily flipped over him. When the wrench splicer span around to attack him, the hook splicer used said hooks to slice the wrench wielder’s belly open. Blood and guts tumbled out, the splicer desperately tried in vein to shove the various body parts back into its body, when the hook splicer gleefully sliced his throat open.

Clayton watched as it fell to the floor, clutching at its neck and choking on blood, body twitching before finally going still.  
  
The male hook splicer grinned in triumphant. Getting to its feet it began to dance around in the bloody mess it had made, waving its hooks around in celebration.  
  
“I did it! I did it!” He cheered. “Stupid fuckers, I did it! Gabriel did it!”  
  
Pausing the splicer turned its attention to him and Clayton suddenly realised that he should’ve ran when he had the chance, but he’d been frozen in shock. Too stunned to move as he watched this one splicer tear into the other three like they were nothing but wet paper.  
  
The hook splicer crouched down on the floor and began to crawl over to him, looking him over. Tilting it’s head this way and that.  
  
“Gabriel did a good thing, right?” It said, like it was asking Clayton himself. “Gabriel got rid of scary monsters… bad naughty cats.. is little mouse okay?”  
  
Blinking at him, Clayton opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Wha-?” Was all he was able to get out. He was so confused. What was going on?  
  
The splicer had finally reached him. It looked him over and offered a smile of missing teeth and yellow ones still in place. Its gums were bleeding and its face was spotty with a lazy eye. Some of its hair had fallen out and its eye sockets were black and hollow. Like it hadn’t been sleeping.  
  
It let go of one of its hooks and reached a bloody hand towards Clayton. The boy winced and scooted back as far as he could go, freezing when the only thing the splicer did was push some of his hair out of his face.  
  
“Little mouse okay?” It asked, pointing at him.  
  
Oh. It was… talking to him? Huh, weird.  
  
“Y-Yeah…” Clayton said softly, staring at the splicer like it was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. Well for one it was nice, that didn’t happen often. “Yeah I’m okay.”  
  
“Good, good. Gabriel happy,” it smiled at him again. “Gabriel thought he was too late, but little mouse is safe, that’s good. Gabriel did a good thing!”  
  
Clayton smiled a little. “Yeah.. yeah I guess you did…” he slowly got to his feet and wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve. It came away red and he gagged a little. He got splicer blood splattered across his face. “Well… umm, I better be going.. now…” he was a little in shock. Stepping around the bodies and trying not to look at them.  
  
He took a few strides down the street, but when he heard the wood creek behind him, he turned to see the splicer was following him. It smiled at him, swinging its hooks around and swaying its body.  
  
“What.. what are you doing?”  
  
“Making sure little mouse get’s home safe.”  
  
“Oh.. umm…” Clayton blinked a little. “What.. why?”  
  
“Because little mouse almost got hurt,” the splicer pointed towards the carnage behind it. “Gabriel wants to make sure little mouse is safe.”  
  
“Well…” Clayton looked at the end of the corridor and spotted an air vent. “I just.. I just have to get to the air vent and then I’m safe…”  
  
“Okay!” The splicer grinned and before Clayton could say anything, it had picked him up and sprinted towards the vent. Easily scaling the wall and setting Clayton in the vent.  
  
The little boy was startled, staring at the splicer who reached forward and ruffled his hair.  
  
“Little mouse safe now!” The splicer crooned. “Safe in his little mouse hole. Stay away from nasty cats.”  
  
“Umm.. yeah.. will do.. thank you?” He stared at the splicer, before reaching in his pocket and placing a pep bar in front of it. “Thanks I guess?” He rose an eyebrow pushing the bar towards the splicer. “Thats ah- that’s a thank you.”  
  
The splicer looked delighted and quickly snatched the bar up, tearing it open and eating it all quickly. He practically shoved it into its mouth. “More please!”  
  
“I don’t have any more…” Clayton felt panicked. “But… but I can bring you some more tomorrow?”  
  
“Gabriel would like that! So hard for Gabriel to find food…” he frowned. “Nasty cats steal it all. Gabriel doesn’t like the cats.”  
  
“I.. I take it your name’s Gabriel?”  
  
“Yes!” He smiled at him. “Yes, yes, yes! Little mouse got it in one!”  
  
Okay… so the splicer was insane, but it didn’t seem dangerous. Clayton looked over Gabriel’s shoulder at the mess of splicer bodies. Okay, so it wasn’t dangerous for him at least. It seemed to want to protect him. It really was a strange one.  
  
“Well, I’m Clayton,” he pointed at himself. “Thank you… for saving me, Gabriel.”  
  
Gabriel bowed his head. “Little mouse is welcome!” He cried, before back flipping to the floor. It looked up at him and waved. “Run all the way home now!”  
  
Clayton watched the splicer turn on its heel and begin to walk away from him. Gabriel the splicer even started to sing a very off key nursery rhyme, which made Clayton wince a bit. He watched for a moment longer as Gabriel cackled and danced around in the dead splicer’s blood, still singing the nursery rhyme.  
  
Shaking his head the little boy crawled into the air vent and made his way home. He needed to clean up and change his clothes. He was certain he was going to have nightmares about what had just happened. His legs and arms felt shaky, like they were barely holding him up. Turned out that was true, because the moment he got home and locked the door, he slid to the floor and curled up.  
  
Clayton stayed like that for a moment longer, clinging to himself and rocking back and forth out of comfort. He could still smell the copper and that sickly sweet smell of ADAM from the blood on his face and sleeve. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the tears fall down his face, burying his head in his knees he sobbed quietly. His body shook with fear and adrenaline. Emotionally he was in shock at what had just happened, he’d never been so close to death before. It had been around him every day, but he’d never been caught in a moment where he could die and it was finally catching up with him.  
  
He could die. He could die in this city if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t stay inside or stay with his Mama or Mister Fontaine.. he could die.  
  
It was a horrible realisation that no eight year old should have to face, but that was the harsh reality of Rapture. Innocence didn’t last long in this city. It was robbed and stolen from you quickly.  
  
Quietly and on legs not quite his own, Clayton got changed and cleaned his face. He hung his jacket up and sat down on the sofa to read. He read about wolves and how they worked in a pack, when he reached the hunting part he had to stop reading. It reminded him too much of the splicers from earlier.  
  
Grabbing his teddy that was still missing its eye, he hugged it tightly to his chest and stared ahead of himself. Not really looking at anything in particular and not really seeing anything either. He stayed like that until his Mama came home and then he ran to her hugging her legs tightly and sobbing. She was shocked, asking him what was wrong and what had happened.  
  
He’d so far kept his exploring a secret, but now he blabbed and told her everything that had happened. About the three splicers and the one that had saved him. She didn’t scold him, just held him close and rocked him back and forth as they sat on the sofa.  
  
In the end he cried himself to sleep and Em put him to bed, gently kissing his forehead as she tucked him in. She pulled the curtain closed and turned his nightlight on. She didn’t want to leave but she had to go to work at Point Prometheus today. Em wrote Clayton a note, putting it by his bedside and locking the door when she left.  
  
She’d talk about him sneaking out later, now was not the time, he was terrified and wouldn’t take in the information. She’d probably grab some cookies on the way home to cheer him up a little. No child should have to see what he just saw only a few hours ago.  
  
Standing out in the courtyard, Em took her gun out and checked that it was loaded. She wasn’t taking any more chances from now on it was kill or be killed. For the most part she’d ignored and avoided the splicers, but now they were hunting in packs like wild animals. She couldn’t take that chance. Clayton needed her.  
  
Grimacing, Em slipped her gun back in her holster.  
  
Survival of the fittest that’s the rule of Rapture. The only rule.

* * *

  
“Mister Fontaine, Mister Fontaine!”  
  
Frank sighed inwardly, but turned to Gilbert Alexander, who was running down the corridor towards him. He was holding a clipboard, his lab coat flapped behind him as he ran.  
  
Gilbert Alexander wasn’t a very tall man. He had a small pencil moustache, almost reminiscent of Oliver Hardy. In fact other than the fact that Alexander was shorter and slimmer than the famed slapstick comedian, he did hold a resemblance to Oliver Hardy. Just decidedly less entertaining.  
  
Frank didn’t like him. He was small, snivelling little nobody. Granted he did have his uses, but as a general rule Fontaine tried to keep his interactions with Alexander small and at the absolute minimum.  
  
Gilbert spent most of his time working in the Protector Program or Big Daddies as they’d been called many times. The name the public gave to them seemed to have stuck more than the official name. Fontaine supposed it did have a better ring to it than Protector.  
  
“Yeah, Gilbert? What is it?” He asked.  
  
The man shuffled his papers a moment, straightening out his lab coat as he went. If he wore a pair of glasses, Fontaine was certain he’d be pushing those up his nose.  
  
“Well, sir,” Gilbert said. “I wanted to talk to you about the Little Brother program..”  
  
“We’ve already discussed this,” Fontaine hissed at him. “Tenenbaum says we can’t do it. That only… girls work,” Frank grimaced a little, but he narrowed his eyes at Alexander. “You know that.”  
  
“I know that Doctor Tenenbaum has only said girls work…” Gilbert said. “But, well, no harm in trying it out on some little boys too, right? I mean, there must be a reason and once we know the reason, we can fix the problem.”  
  
“Or, how about we don’t cause the problem in the first place?” Frank bit out. “And we leave it as it is. Tenenbaum and Suchong both have said it has to be little girls. Boys don’t work,” Frank straightened out his suit jacket, being careful not to jostle the newspaper he was holding under his arm. “Besides,” he went on. “Where the hell would we even get the test subjects? The orphanages are only suited for the girls.”  
  
He began marching off in the direction he’d previously been heading to. He was going to the accounting office, to Limey so he could discuss some interesting headlines in the paper. He was already in a bad mood from those headlines in the first place, Alexander was souring that mood even more.  
  
“Well, I already have the perfect test subject in mind,” Alexander said. “That Lokken boy.”  
  
Frank froze.  
  
“He’s here an awful lot, it would be very easy to sneak him into the back labs,” the scientist went on, not picking up on the hostile vibes Fontaine was giving off as the conman slowly walked back to him. “And yes, whilst there is the subject of his mother, well, she’s not his _real_ mother. She just found him in the air vent. She’d get over it. So… what do you think?” He looked up at Fontaine and smiled. “The boy’s the right age, he’s healthy. He’s the perfect candidate.”  
  
Frank reached forward and grabbed him around the throat, squeezing a little and Alexander looked startled. He stared up at Fontaine in shock, his other hand coming up to grip at the one Fontaine had around his throat. Frank didn’t usually get physical like this, but he felt like this was the right moment to, so he could get his point across. He didn’t want there to be any sort of confusion between him and Alexander.  
  
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” he snarled, leaning in to Alexander’s face. “You touch that kid. They’ll never find your body.”  
  
He shoved Alexander away and the man toppled to the floor. He stared at Fontaine, who loomed over him, eyes narrowed and daring Gilbert to argue. The man didn’t, just nodded his head in understanding, picking up his notes and running away from Fontaine as fast as he could go.  
  
Frank turned around, heading to accounting. He found Limey at her desk, typing away on a typewriter not looking at him at all. She didn’t even acknowledge that he’d even entered the room.  
  
He stalked up to the desk, pulling the paper out from under his arm Fontaine proceeded to flash it in front of Limey’s face. She paused in her writing to look over the front page of the newspaper, carefully taking a measured sip of her tea.  
  
“Would you look at that. Anya’s is having a sale on.”  
  
“Limey.”  
  
“Steinman? Now I take great offence to that, Francis.”  
  
“The _diamond_ , Limey. Hell all of it. Where are they?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied taking another sip of her drink. “How should I know where they are? Perhaps you should ask the thief.”  
  
“Alright,” he sat down on her desk with an over cheerful smile. “ _Katherine_ , where are they?”  
  
She sighed placing the tea cup down and looking up at him over her glasses. “I couldn’t help myself.”  
  
“I told you to stop doing it.”  
  
“That is like telling me to stop breathing,” she replied with a shrug. “Besides… it’s not like they ever appreciated it. Not properly.”  
  
He glared at her, before looking back at the paper with a frown. “How’d you even get it?”  
  
“A lady must keep some secrets, Francis,” she said going back to typing. “Now, off,” she waved at him before shoving a little at his leg to get him off her desk. He obliged, but still stood next to her glaring at the top of her head. “I have work to do. Your accounts aren’t going to manage themselves after all.”  
  
“Where are you even hiding these things?”  
  
“That, my dear Francis, is a question I shall never answer,” she gave him a serious look. “You have sticky fingers. Things just tend to… go missing, should we say?”  
  
“Learnt it from you, old girl,” he replied. “Seriously though, ain’t runnin’ the tables enough for you?”  
  
“Decidedly not,” she frowned.  
  
He sighed pointing at her with the newspaper. “Just… give me a heads up next time.”  
  
“What makes you think I’ll do it again?”  
  
“I know you.”

* * *

  
Stanley stared down in shock at the little girl before him. Eleanor had made her way down to Dionysus Park by herself. Her arms were crossed and she was glaring at him so fiercely it didn’t feel like a child was looking at him. It felt like an adult. She scrunched her nose up and looked him up and down critically, glanced at the doors behind her when the sound of partiers reached her ear, before turning back to Stanley.  
  
“E-Eleanor? What are you doing here?”  
  
“I should be asking _you_ that, Stanley!” She snapped, before pointing at the door behind her. “Mother would not approve! You were trusted to keep her message! To continue to teach her believes!” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You are a traitor after all.”  
  
“T-Traitor?” Poole spluttered, eyes wide and staring at her. “Now you just hold on now-.”  
  
“No. I know it was you, Stanley!” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “I know it was you who got my Mum arrested! You betrayed her! She trusted you and you followed your own selfish believes. Mother was right about the self. It’s a disease! I want my mother back.”  
  
Stanley clenched and unclenched his hands staring at the little girl. He licked his lips nervously, ran a hand through his hair as he began to pace back and forth. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How did Lamb’s little brat kid know it was him anyway? She had no proof. She couldn’t prove anything and it’s not like those drugged up morons outside would listen to her. They wouldn’t listen to her would they? She was a child, he was a grown up, who was more believable out of the two of them? He was. Clearly, he was.  
  
He glanced at the little girl who crossed her arms and glared right back at him. She didn’t look like a little girl, she looked like an adult. Even the little pinafore dress she wore did nothing to ease the tension in Stanley’s bones. What was he going to do? What would those crazy followers do to him if they did believe Eleanor? Would they kill him? They probably would wouldn’t they? They’re just animals after all, not much of people left in them. Spliced up like crazy after all the parties, they’d all started to wear those masquerade masks now, hiding their deformities.  
  
“I’ll give you once chance to tell them,” Eleanor said. “They need to know the truth. They deserve to know the truth.”  
  
“Are you crazy?” He snapped at her, pointing at himself angrily. “They’ll kill me! Do you understand that you little brat!”  
  
“Then maybe you should’ve thought of _that_ before you betrayed my mother,” Eleanor replied sharply. “You got yourself into this mess, Stanley. You can still do the right thing. Just admit the truth. Tell them,” she pointed at herself. “Tell them or I will.”  
  
He couldn’t believe it. He was backed into a corner by a kid. A stupid little seven year old or whatever age Eleanor was, had backed him into a corner. He stared at her for a long time. He couldn’t tell them. He didn’t care what that kid said, he couldn’t tell the followers what he’d done. They probably didn’t care anymore. Too spliced to care, but he couldn’t take that chance.  
  
He’d let them run wild after all. He’d let them do whatever they wanted and experience the finer style of living and partying with no boundaries or rules. They’d truly been free to do whatever they wanted and they’d turned into animals because of it. Ava was even making films about it.  
  
There were a few of Lamb’s followers though. The ones still loyal to her that wondered around. Ones like that little ballerina and… and her partner. A few others too. They’d maybe believe Eleanor and could possibly work the rest of them into a frenzy. A frenzy that would probably end up with him dead.  
  
That’s when he realised the easy solution to his problem. He just had to get rid of Eleanor. If she wasn’t here, she couldn’t tell them what he’d done. He couldn’t tell them that he’d sold Lamb out and given the information that Ryan needed to lock her away. Yeah. Yeah that’s all he needed to do. With Eleanor out of the picture there was no one left to connect Stanley to the crime and he’d be home free. Able to live out the rest of his time in the park and party, spending all of Lamb’s money. She was locked away somewhere so it’s not like she was going to use it.  
  
Luckily for Stanley, Fontaine had opened up those nice little orphanages up and down Rapture and there was one not too far from here. Just the next station over in fact. All he had to do was drop Eleanor off there, she’d go down as another one of Rapture’s unfortunate orphans and get lost in Fontaine’s charity scheme. Everyone else would be none the wiser and more importantly, Stanley would be home free.  
  
Without a word, he grabbed the girl by her arm and began dragging her away. Eleanor fought and kicked him. She even tried biting him at one point. He’d been a bit nervous taking her through the crowds of people, but they ignored them. Probably just thought he was disciplining a naughty child, they thought Stanley was one of them after all.  
  
He took on the Atlantic Express to the Mason’s Quarters, a place that was filled with fancy shops and bars. There was even the Pearl hotel, one of the ritzier hotels in Rapture. The  
  
Mason’s Quarters was filled with architects and designers. The place itself was beautiful. Art Deco decorations littered it, everywhere you look there was decoration. On even the smallest support beam an intricate design was carved on. There were balconies and walkways all along and on every building just about. The metal banisters and railings were gold and brass in colour, also moulded into Art Deco designs. It was a place that was usually filled with partiers going to the nightclubs and bars, or sometimes the architects would come out to show off their skills.  
  
The place was split up into two halves, with a junction in between that you had to walk through to get to the second half. The second half of the Mason’s Quarters was where Stanley was heading. It had a grocery store and a few more shops and bars, but most importantly, at the very back it had one of the Little Sister’s Orphanages.  
  
Stanley pushed the door open to the Orphanage and the woman at the desk looked up in surprise. He wasn’t sure why, from what he’d heard, the orphanages had been busy.  
  
“Can I help you, sir?”  
  
“Yeah I- ah,” he shoved Eleanor forward. “I found this one out and about. Lost little thing, figured this was the best place for her.”  
  
The woman smiled and got up gently taking Eleanor’s hand and leading her up the steps. The girl glared at Stanley, but she looked like she’d given up fighting. She probably thought she’d be able to escape. Stanley doubted that. Fontaine wasn’t one who slacked on security. This place would be like a fortress and Eleanor wouldn’t be going anywhere.  
  
Smiling to himself Stanley left the orphanage, hands in his pockets and even began to whistle. Now that Eleanor was gone there was no one left to keep up Lamb’s memory. She’d soon be forgotten, just like Mister Ryan had planned and Poole would get away with it all scot free. No one would be able to link him to the crime and he was free to do as he pleased.  
  
Everything was perfect and now not a thing could go wrong. Stanley Poole was in the clear and there would be no more problems. He could relax and forget about Lamb and her stupid little cult. Eleanor was gone too now and besides, the orphanage was probably the best place for the girl. Stanley was probably doing her a favour. The orphanages were a lot safer than the drop and she’d be around kids her age. It was the right place for her.  
  
That night Stanley over indulged in the partying, but who could blame him right? He had a reason to celebrate. He’d won. Stanley Poole had finally won and he wouldn’t have a problem again.

* * *

  
_Kelly Christie,_   
  
_Good for something else:_   
  
_Med hypo’s are a godsend for a gal like me. Now I can get a nice roll in the hay without worrying about the effects after. Thank you Mister Fontaine, least you’re good for something else, even if it’s still bedroom related._


	34. You Don't Own Me

_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_The Great Chain:_   
  
_I believe in no God, no invisible man in the sky. But there is something more powerful than each of us, a combination of our efforts, a Great Chain of Industry that unites us. But it is only when we struggle in our own interest that the chain pulls society in the right direction. The chain is too powerful and too mysterious for any government to guide. Any man who tells you different either has his hand in your pocket, or a pistol to your neck._

* * *

  
Emilie sat at her workbench, blow torch in hand and mask down over her face. It was a quiet day in Hephestus, they seemed to be getting quieter and quieter as the months went by. Things weren’t getting any better, despite Ryan insisting that they would. The only way that would happen, would be if they got rid of Plasmids and Tonics, but Ryan couldn’t or wouldn’t do that. Even if he did ban them, she doubted it would stop Fontaine. He’d sell them on the black market which he basically had control of anyway. Some Plasmids were being sold on the blackmarket, like teleport. Ryan really hadn’t liked that one.   
  
Sighing to herself she finished off the final piece of metal work for the R-34s. They were for the Big Daddies and boy did they burn through those quickly. She carefully cooled the metal casing down before working on the wiring. She was hoping they’d find a substitute for these, but with the recourses they had, it didn’t look like it would be happening any time soon. So, the Big Daddies burnt through them like hell fire and they either fixed or made some new ones.   
  
Glancing at her short wave radio, she slowly took her welders mask off. The radio was a new thing. Recently she’d been leaving Clayton with Opal to look after. Especially after she found out he’d been sneaking out and then there was the splicer attack. The idea of her coming home and not knowing where or what had happened to her son terrified her. When he’d calmed down she talked to him about it and he didn’t seem too keen on going out, but she wanted to be sure. She knew what her son was like, he took after her.   
  
Opal was all too pleased to look after him for her and so they both had short wave radios. If something happened she’d contact Em. It was easier then trying to put a call through to Hephestus, it would probably take too long.   
  
The radio was silent, only the sound of static coming through the speaker and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. Knowing that Clayton was safe meant she could do her work without worry too much. Of course, in recent times she felt like she was always worrying. Always panicking and fretting about something. Mainly the splicers, an unholy and unruly bunch that would tear you to shreds as soon as they looked at you. She thankfully hadn’t needed to use her gun yet, but she was under no illusion that soon she’d have to.   
  
A knock at the door made her jump. Looking up she saw Kyburz looking deeply concerned and she rose an eyebrow at him. Kyburz being concerned wasn’t a knew or uncommon thing, but this was a little different. He looked scared.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Ryan’s asking for you.”   
  
She frowned at him, placing the R-34 on her table and walking over to him. “Did he say why?” She asked, taking a cloth from her belt so she could wipe her hands of any grease or oil.   
  
“No,” he shook his head. “Just said it was urgent. I don’t like it, Em.”   
  
“It’ll be fine,” she smiled at him.   
  
“Yeah, but you know what he’s gotten like recently,” he frowned at her. “Especially with this Fontaine business. I mean, you should hear his speeches to the council.”   
  
“Yeah, that’s why I decided to never join the council,” she replied walking towards the steps. “Everything will be fine. I’m sure of it,” she paused a moment. “Would you be able to keep on eye on my stuff? Especially my note book. I can’t afford anyone stealing my ideas.”   
  
Kyburz nodded. “I’ll grab all your blueprints and plans, don’t worry.”  
  
“Thanks Kyburz, I owe you one.”   
  
“No you don’t.”   
  
Emilie smiled at him, turning to the stairs and taking them two at a time. Walking through Hephestus felt different to all the other times. There was a general sense of unease and paranoia amongst the workmen. People doing double takes of men they’d worked alongside of for seven years. It was also empty. The sounds of the engines took up most of the silence and it did nothing to ease any tension. You couldn’t hear someone sneaking up on you after all and that was how some of the splicers liked to hunt.  
  
When she made it to Ryan’s office, Diane was sitting at her desk like usual. This time though, she was sporting an engagement ring. She hadn’t been aloud to announce it yet, not publicly at least. Ryan hadn’t wanted her to. Em wasn’t too sure the man wanted to get married, but Diane assured her that he did. Usually it would follow up with that little smile of hers that felt so sad.   
  
It was that sad little smile that Diane flashed her now. Em returned it with a solemn one. They hadn’t spoken much, Diane hadn’t wanted to talk about New Years. She said everything was fine, but none of the girls believed her. Em believed she’d tell them all when she was ready and they’d all be there to talk to her when that time came. If it ever did.   
  
Em knocked on Ryan’s door and when she heard the resounding come in, she walked inside.   
  
Ryan’s office was located in Rapture’s Central Control. The place that controlled the power, lights, warmth and oxygen of the city. Everything was powered and controlled from this very place. Ryan had even gotten so paranoid in recent times that he even had the control system genetically locked. To his genetics of course, no one else’s. These genetic locks came with genetic keys of course. Golden looking plates with a certain pattern to them. These patterns corresponded with the person’s genetics and it was done so only that person could access whatever was genetically locked. After all, why would you hand your genetic key to anyone?  
  
It wasn’t just Ryan who had taken up this type of lock and key system. Fontaine and Sinclair had both purchased such devices. Fontaine had a bio-scanner, sort of like a fancy camera that studied your biology and genetic makeup. It was then coded into a computer and then hey presto. You yourself was a genetic key. If someone died the system was updated, but the genetic codes weren’t removed. They were simply put in as being inactive.   
  
Most of Rapture’s machinery now worked on the genetic basis. ADAM had made it all possible, allowed the scientists to understand how peoples genetic makeup worked and then put it to practical use.   
  
The security cameras, the security turrets, whirly bird turrets, basically the security system as a whole worked on this. You only wanted certain people getting by, you’d code it to that or you’d code the security system to target a particular genetic makeup. The security turrets had mostly been coded to shoot at a certain level of splicing. The irony was, that sometimes the owners of said turrets would splice up to that level of splicing and… well the results wasn’t pretty. At least in the end, if they had their doubts about their security system, they’d have no doubts after. They’d be dead of course, but hey at least they knew all their possessions wouldn’t be looted after the fact.   
  
The turrets didn’t leave any room for possible survival. Em had seen many splicers be practically cut in two by the amount of bullets that were shot at them. Now people had even started to buy and commission turrets that fired rockets or had a flame thrower attached to them instead of a gun. She’d been grateful that no one in Hephestus had decided to purchase any of those. The smell of burning flesh still set off her Shellshock.   
  
“You wanted to see me, Mister Ryan?”  
  
“Ah yes, Ms Lokken,” he gave a smile and gestured to the seat in front of his desk as he stood up from his own. “Please take a seat, may I offer you a drink?”  
  
“No thank you, sir. I don’t drink,” she took a seat and Ryan sat down, he was quiet a moment, simply studying her. It made Em feel uncomfortable and suddenly Kyburz’s words were echoing around her head. He’d been worried, maybe she should be worried too. Her gun was still holstered, but at least it was by her side, if worst came to the worst.  
  
“Ms Lokken,” Ryan began. “As you know, your work is very much appreciated and highly regarded. It was you who designed Ryan’s gate after all. A truly ingenious design.”   
  
“Wasn’t too complicated, sir, but thank you,” she narrowed her eyes at him. She always did get suspicious when the employer laid on the compliments a bit thick. “Have I… done something wrong?”  
  
“I just want to see where your loyalties lie.”  
  
“My loyalties, sir?”   
  
He tapped his pencil against his desk, flipping through a file, scanning over the page. “You’ve been doing a lot of work for Fontaine, I am aware of your part time contract with him. You also did some work for Sinclair and I have been informed you were seen around Dionysus Park while Lamb was in ownership of it.”  
  
“Last I checked, Mister Ryan, Rapture was a free market,” she replied carefully. Internally she was cursing Stanley Poole. Of course he wouldn’t dob Bill in it, Ryan probably wouldn’t believe that, but her? Oh he’d believe she would do work for Lamb. She hadn’t, but it wasn’t like the alternative was any better. She’d been there about to do free work. Charity work. “I _work_ for you, I’m not _owned_ by you.”   
  
“Oh of that I am quite aware, Ms Lokken. I dare say a woman such as yourself detests the notion of being owned by anyone. I can empathise,” he leaned back in his chair. “But these are desperate times or they soon will be. Sofia Lamb may be gone, but Fontaine still resides amongst the public eye. Sofia Lamb, as I’m sure you were aware, was conducting cult related activities. As for Mister Fontaine… well, the list is endless, but smuggling is his most dangerous escapade. He could lead to the discovery of Rapture and therefor its downfall,” he stood from his desk, turning to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “I founded Rapture to be free of such things. Free of law and god. Free of the parasites that drag great civilisations down. We do not need the parasites of the surface interfering with what we have built here. They would claim all of our assets!”  
  
“A truly disastrous possibility, Mister Ryan,” Em drawled. She’d heard all of this before. It was his broken record when it came to big speeches. “I fail to see what any of this has to do with me.”  
  
“You have been seen.. working quite close with Fontaine, should we say?”   
  
She didn’t even blink. “It helps my work to understand what exactly it is the customer or my employer wants. I ask the questions I need to. If Mister Fontaine is smuggling I know nothing of it save for the rumours around the workplace. But I tend to find idle gossip is mostly built on fiction.”  
  
“Quite,” Ryan pursed his lips looking her over. “But you worked on one of his fishing subs. Did you notice anything… out of the ordinary?”  
  
“If I had Mister Ryan, you would’ve been the first to know.”   
  
The irony wasn’t lost on her with that statement. Her cigarettes from the surface that she’d ordered from Fontaine sat comfortably in her pocket, hidden away in a Rapture’s Own cigarette packet.   
  
He smiled at that. “I would like to believe that Ms Lokken, but I am under the impression that Fontaine paid and continues to pay you a considerable amount of money.”   
  
_More than you do, you tight bastard_. She thought in the privacy of her own head, but she didn’t dare voice it.  
  
“If you really want to go questioning the ranks, sir,” Em bit out. “I’d try your accountant, I’m not so shallow as to be bribed by money. I went and did my job. Last I checked that wasn’t a crime.”   
  
Andrew Ryan smirked slightly, looking amused. “I see why Bill likes you, Lokken. You’re a smart woman, perhaps a little too smart.”  
  
“No such thing as too smart,” she crossed her arms. “Just what exactly are you accusing me of, Mister Ryan? Smuggling? Cultists? Not belonging exclusively to the I love Andrew Ryan club? I came to Rapture because I was told I’d be allowed to let my business grow and not have anything as silly as sexism thrown in my face.”  
  
“Accusing, Ms Lokken? Why I am only making observations.”   
  
“Fontaine has his business, Lamb and Sinclair have or in Lamb’s case, had their’s. I may have crossed paths with all of them, but that doesn’t mean I know anything of any secret dealings they may be in.”   
  
Ryan didn’t look convinced. “Someone as observant as you does not simply miss things, Miss Lokken.”   
  
Em stood up angrily. “Are you calling me a liar now?! I’ve told you. I don’t know anything.”  
  
“Not even about Fontaine?”  
  
“No! He’s my part time employer.”  
  
“I’ve been informed that you’ve been seen leaving his penthouse.”  
  
“As I’m sure Bill and Sullivan have been seen leaving yours, sir,” she snapped. “I imagine most private business meetings do occur in _private_ , sir.”   
  
“ _Business meetings_ , is that what they call it now?”  
  
“Do I look like I come from Eve’s Garden?!” Em shouted, quickly loosing whatever hold she had on her temper. “I don’t go moonlighting with my part time employer, Mister Ryan, I go to talk business or go over schematics!” She took a moment to calm herself down. “You asked me where my loyalties lie, Mister Ryan, well my loyalties lie with myself! I will not be named as some _hussy_ who sleeps around! Fontaine’s _whore_ I am not, sir!” She hissed at him. “As I said; my loyalties lie with myself and out of respect for myself you can consider this my resignation! You shall have no more business from me, Mister Ryan. As a free enterprise I have the right to decline service to anyone. Good day!”   
  
Emilie turned on her heel, marching towards the exit to leave and grab her things from her work station. She honestly couldn’t believe she’d just quit her job, but she had a feeling Fontaine would be pleased to have her work for him full-time. No longer sharing her, as he put it, with Ryan. Maybe it would mean she’d have to suffer him for longer hours of the day, but it would also mean Clayton could be with her at all times or just about. She’d be able to keep a better eye on him and keep him safe.   
  
The only thing she was dreading now was seeing Fontaine’s smug face when she told him she’d now work for him full time. She’d deal with it though, if only because the man paid better.   
  
“Ms Lokken,” Ryan snapped. “I will be having the blueprints for Ryan’s gate,” he held his hand out for them.   
  
Em wanted to laugh at the audacity of the man. Accuse her of being a whore and sleeping around. Sharing company secrets beneath the sheets. She was outraged.   
  
She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “Very sorry, Mister Ryan, but those blueprints belong strictly to me as they are my design and are not for sale. As a businessman and supporter of the free market I do hope you understand.”   
  
Finally she stormed out of the office. She ignored Diane’s questioning look and her shouting out to her. Emilie was angry and panicking at the same time. She felt elated and worried, almost like she was running on a high but it was probably just adrenaline. She didn’t regret what she’d done, she just felt bad about breaking it to Kyburz. He didn’t like the fact that she worked part time for Fontaine and now she was going to be working for him full time. Hopefully.   
  
Packing up her stuff into her bag and tool box, Kyburz came round the corner holding her book and the few blueprints she had.   
  
He watched her pack her things away looking confused before realisation dawned on him and he looked outraged.   
  
“He fired you?!”   
  
“No,” she said, slipping her coat on before picking up her bag. “I quit.”  
  
“What…?” He whispered, eyes wide and voice barely audible.   
  
“I quit,” she shrugged, grabbing her toolbox and holding her hand out for her work book. “Bastard accused me of sleeping around with Fontaine and questioned my loyalties. He can sod off.”   
  
“What are you going to do now though?”  
  
“I’m going to work for Fontaine full time,” she shrugged like it was no big deal, reaching over to grab her shortwave radio as she explained. “He’s wanted me working for him full time from the start. Lucky bastard finally got what he wanted and I’m loathed to see the smirk on his face, but what choice do I have?”   
  
“You could’ve always gone with not quitting at all!” Kyburz snapped, handing her the book anyway, before carefully folding up the blueprints. “What am I going to do now that you’re gone?”   
  
“We’ll still see each other outside of work,” Em said, putting her book away in the inside of her pocket. “But I refuse to work for a man who accuses me of something like that.”  
  
“And Fontaine’s the better choice?”   
  
“Fontaine maybe a rude bastard, but he’s never questioned my loyalty and he’s never called my a hussy. He knows better and his money doesn’t hurt too much either. He pays better than Ryan.”   
  
“Of course Fontaine hasn’t questioned your loyalty. He’d kill you if you betrayed him and he knows you know that.”   
  
“You think Ryan wouldn’t kill someone?” She rose an eyebrow at him. “He’s throwing away people in Persephone, I can’t imagine that place is cozy.”   
  
Kyburz grimaced at the mention of the place, handing her the blueprints. “Maybe, but this is _Fontaine_ we’re talking about.”  
  
“The way Rapture’s going, Kyburz, we’d end up working for him anyway. Ryan’s lost. He’s lost this battle, he just isn’t ready to admit it. Fontaine will buy him out and then Ryan Industries will be taken down from over that door and Fontaine Futuristics will be placed on top,” she began searching through the blueprints until she came to the ones she was looking for. The ones for Ryan’s gate. “We both know it’s going to happen. I’m just switching hands a little early is all.”   
  
Kyburz frowned at her, before watching as she shook out the plans for Ryan’s gate. She took her lighter out, recently bought so she didn’t have to rely on matches since lighters were cheap now. So Plasmids had made her life easier indirectly. The beauty being she didn’t have to use them.   
  
“What are you doing?” He asked her, watching as she flicked the lighter on and held it to the blueprints. “Emilie what are you doing?!”  
  
“I’m protecting my assets,” she replied carefully dropping the burning material into the metal bin by her desk. The paper was burning away quickly. “You think I trust him? Ryan will be after this. Well, it’s my design. My work. My property. He’s not getting his hands on it.” She narrowed her eyes as she watched the paper burn up and then there was nothing but ash and little fragments of paper left at the bottom. Anything that was left of the paper was of no use. “I’ve memorised the plans, I’m the only one who ever saw them. I’ll be damned if I let him get his hands on them. It’s mine.”   
  
Kyburz watched the paper slowly fizzle out. A few pieces still had little flames to them, but eventually even they went out and all that was left was the charred remains.   
  
They stood in silence looking at the the bin, before Em packed away her other blueprints and then they stood in silence once more. This time staring at each other.   
  
A beat passed. Kyburz opened his mouth to say something, but Em beat him to it, like she always did.   
  
“I guess I’ll see you round,” she smiled at him, before pulling him into a hug. He gratefully returned it. Pulling her close until she pulled away from him. “You take care of yourself, okay?”  
  
“You too…”  
  
“Hey, chin up,” she winked at him. “You’ll be seeing me again sooner than you think. It’ll be like nothing’s changed.”   
  
“What’s going on here then?”   
  
They looked up to see Pablo leaning against the doorframe, eyebrow raised and looking a lot worse than he used to. The ADAM growths almost took up half of his face now. He didn’t seem to notice them anymore.   
  
“And look at that,” Em went on, patting Kyburz’s arm. “You and Pablo will be able to get to know each other just that little bit better.”   
  
“Say what now?” Pablo raised an eyebrow before taking in Em’s appearance. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”   
  
“I quit my job,” she said simply, walking past him. “So now you won’t have me harping down your ear every two minutes about safety goggles,” she offered him a smile. “You take care of yourself, Pablo. Hope to see you again at the Fighting McDonagh.” She reached the stairs, turning back to the two men. “You’ll say goodbye to Daniel for me, won’t you? Let him know what’s happened?”   
  
“Yeah…” Kyburz nodded. “We will.”   
  
“Well, I guess we’re neighbours now,” Em said with a shrug. “So.. I might even beat you to it, maybe,” she took one final look at her old office, offering a smile to them both. A smile that was considerably softer and sadder than any of her other smiles. It almost felt like the smiles Diane would give her when something had gone wrong. “See you, Kyburz..”   
  
“Goodbye…” he whispered, but he didn’t think he heard her. She was already walking up the steps and disappearing around the corner.   
  
He couldn’t shake the feeling, but it felt like that was the last time he was ever going to see her. If not _the_ last, certainly one of the last. It felt like it would be the last time he’d ever see her even remotely happy.   
  
Kyburz felt Pablo by his side as they both stared at the now empty staircase.   
  
“If you were looking for the opportune moment to admit your feelings?” Pablo said, pointing in the direction of the stairs. “That was it.”

* * *

  
Emilie placed her bag and toolkit down, next to Kelly’s desk. Kelly looked startled and even jumped in her seat from the noise. She looked at Em questioningly while Emilie pushed her hair away from her face.   
  
“Is Fontaine in his office?” Em asked, walking towards the door.   
  
“Yes…?”   
  
“Is he busy?”  
  
“No…”   
  
“Good,” she said and pushed the door open.   
  
Fontaine was sitting at his desk going over some files. He looked up at the sound of his office doors being opened and a look of confusion crossed his face. It was probably the most honest look she’d ever seen on his face the entire time she’d known him.   
  
“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, glancing at the clock on his desk, the frown deepening on his forehead. “Ya’ early. You finish work for Ryan early or somethin’?”  
  
“You could say that,” she replied while she walked up to his desk. “I quit. I’m no longer in Andrew Ryan’s employ.”   
  
That got his attention. He sat up a little straighter and closed the files on his desk, slipping them away in a draw. He looked both surprised and pleased to hear this information, maybe even a little curious. Fontaine folded his hands in front of him and smirked at her. He looked like he’d already worked out why she was here and was waiting for her to say it. Just to feed his ego.   
  
“Did ya’ now?” He grinned. “And pray tell why was that?”  
  
“The bastard accused me of sleeping with you,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Sharing company secrets under the sheets.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be apposed to that.”  
  
“But we both know _I_ would be,” she replied coldly, glaring at him. “Let’s not beat around the bush here, we both know I despise you and we both know that if I wanted to tell you company secrets I wouldn’t need to do it under the sheets. That kind of agreement only benefits you, since you’re the only one getting anything out of it.”   
  
Frank seemed to mull this over in his mind a moment. “Not if you’re doing it right.”   
  
“Not what you should be focusing on.”   
  
“Forgive me, Ms Em,” he placed a hand on his chest. “But seeing ya’ so angry is an appealing sight. Why I’d say you’re even more attractive like this,” he winked at her. “Ya’ get that fire in your eyes.”   
  
“I will fire a bullet _between_ your eyes if you don’t stop,” she snapped.  
  
He grinned at her and gestured for her to continue. “I’m sure you would. So, ya no longer workin’ for Ryan, he thinks that you and I are having the sort of fun that he has to pay for and that you’re telling me company secrets in the mean time. Of course Ryan would think like that, business secrets ain’t exactly my idea of ‘pillow talk’,” he laughed. “And now, you’re here… which begs the question.. why are ya’ here.”  
  
“You know why.”   
  
Frank rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I just want to hear you say it. Come on Ms Em, humour me.”   
  
Emilie ground her teeth together and glared at his smug face. She was very much doubting her decision now, but this was her only option. She’d made her bed, now it was time to lie in it. Besides, Fontaine did pay well and she did have a higher position here. She was head of the engineering and electrical engineering department here. She got respect here, though many would doubt that. Emilie, however, knew the truth.   
  
Fontaine, she’d worked out, respected her in his own way. These little games they played where just that, games. He enjoyed winding her up. They battled with barbed words nearly all the time, but after the anniversary ball the words felt different. They didn’t feel real, there was no truth behind them, it was just how her and Frank spoke to each other. It was a game to him. One she was not going to let him win.   
  
Secretly and in the back of her own mind, she enjoyed these games too. Fontaine made her think in a way she didn’t have to with anyone else. He challenged and irritated her. Actually made her have to think carefully about what she had to say and then work out what to say next or predict what he was going to say so she could counter it.   
  
It was fun. In the confusing and mentally taxing way their conversations presented themselves. Always twisting and turning, Frank firing flirtatious remarks at her, even though he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere, just to see what kind of creative response she came up with.   
  
Em would wager if she wasn’t nearly as entertaining as Frank seemed to find her or as smart, he wouldn’t waste his time. He’d treat her like every other worker, but because she spoke her mind and did good work he kept her around. He’d stated far too many times how entertaining he found her. She’d go as far as to say that he even liked her, but asking him such a thing would without a doubt break and ruin this game of theirs.  
  
For a strange reason, she didn’t want it to end. Even when he gave her a headache and she wanted to kill him, she couldn’t imagine her day being without their constant fights and arguments. Privately to herself she’d admit that she’d miss their little game if it ended. She’d grown accustomed to it.   
  
Just because she liked the game, however, didn’t mean she liked him. People often got that confused. They seemed to think that because of their.. she supposed, occasional flirtatious conversations they were an item. That she liked him.   
  
They couldn’t be further from the truth.   
  
“I came here,” she bit out. “Because, you ego maniac, I was hoping I could work for you full time.”  
  
“Hopin’ huh?”  
  
“I know where the real scratch is made, Frank,” she replied, not realising she’d referred to him with his first name. Though Fontaine certainly had, because the man’s eyes snapped open to stare at her. Emilie was too busy glaring at the ceiling so she didn’t have to look at his smug face. “Ryan doesn’t own Rapture anymore. Any idiot who thinks otherwise is just denying the truth. You own the ADAM, you own Rapture. That’s it.”  
  
“Ahh..” Fontaine said, smirking a little. “So ya’ finally come to your senses, I knew you would eventually. Smart girl like you, I knew you’d make the right choice in the end.”  
  
“So?” She rose an eyebrow at him, placing her hand on her hips. “Does this mean I can re-work my contract to work for you full-time?”   
  
“Would it surprise you if I said I already had one drafted out, just required your signature?”   
  
“No it wouldn’t.”   
  
Frank smiled and opened another draw, pulling out a contract and holding up a pen. “Come on then. Why wait?”   
  
She frowned at him before walking up the steps to his desk, taking the pen and looking over the contract. “How long have you had this?”   
  
“Let’s just say I was confident in your abilities ta make the right decision from the moment I met you and leave it at that, shall we?” He grinned at her, looking just as smug as she’d imagined he would. “If you knew fer certain, it take all the fun out of it, don’t ya think? Thought, I gotta say… can’t imagine ya boyfriend would’ve taken this all too well.”  
  
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she replied looking over the contract, reading it all carefully before she signed the paper. Signing any contract for Fontaine felt like she was signing away her soul.  
  
“Ya don’t?” He sounded surprised. “I just assumed that Aussie…”   
  
“Kyburz is a friend,” she replied, the pen hovered over the signature line. “He’s just a friend. A good friend, granted, but he’s just a friend.”  
  
“Of course. My mistake.”   
  
She looked up at that, with narrowed eyes directed solely at him. “You don’t make mistakes.”  
  
He only smiled at her in reply, before his eyes flickered down to the signature page. He tapped at the paper impatiently, almost like he was reminding her why she was here.  
  
Emilie sighed and looked down at the page, this time she pressed the pen to paper and signed it, finishing it off with a flourish. Before she could do anything else, Fontaine took the contract and the pen from her hand, placing the contract away in his desk and returning the pen to its rightful place.   
  
Em only stood at his desk in silence contemplating what she’d just done.   
  
As if sensing her oncoming distress and panic, Frank reached a hand forward and placed it on her shoulder. Anyone else it would feel like a comfort, but coming from him felt like the final nail in the coffin.   
  
“Better to walk with a friend in the dark than to walk alone in the light,” he said, offering a smile and giving her shoulder a little squeeze.   
  
“Very poetic,” she replied, stepping away from him and crossing her arms. “So… do I get an office or a locker at least?”  
  
“Of course. I’ll have Reggie lead ya’ to your new digs,” he offered another smile. It was all part of the snake oil salesman act he put on. Even when she knew, it was so damn good it could almost convince her. Almost. She’d seen Fontaine’s ugly side far too often to be lured in by the line of fake friendship he was handing her.   
  
Fontaine often reminded her of an angler fish, strange as it may be. He certainly hunted his prey the same way. Angler fish would use their glowing light to distract and hypnotise the fish so it could then eat them. Fontaine distracted people with fancy words and charitable gestures before digging his claws into you and robbing you of everything you had.   
  
She nodded to him, making her way down the steps towards the doors. “I’ll wait for him outside then,” she said. “Thank you for your time, Mister Fontaine.”  
  
“Emilie?”   
  
She paused, if only for the fact that he used her full name for once.   
  
Glancing behind her, she found Frank smiling at her. The cold smile that always hinted to the more dangerous side. The side that he kept safely hidden away from the public eye.   
  
“Ya’ made the right choice.”  
  
“What would’ve happened if I’d of made the wrong one?”   
  
The smile grew on his face. “Oh.. let’s not go down that road.. especially not after the start of our newfound partnership. Be a shame to bring down the mood, don’t ya think?”   
  
She swallowed uneasily. “Yeah… that would be a shame.”   
  
Frank grinned. “I’m just messin’ with ya,” he winked. “Don’t think I could get rid of you, Ms Em. Ya just too damn entertaining.”  
  
“And the day that I stop being entertaining?”   
  
“You best pray that day never comes.”   
  
Silence filled the room. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she ended up nodding once and leaving. Emilie sagged against the door once it was closed, shakily running a hand through her hair. That was the first time she’d truly felt scared of Fontaine. It was probably because he now held her fate in his hands.  
  
 _‘Must I forever be a beggar? Whose golden dreams will not come true or will I go from rags to riches? My fate is up to you.’_   
  
The words from that stupid song Sander Cohen had sang to her the very first time she’d saw him ran through her mind.   
  
“That psychotic artist should put psychic on his resume,” she mumbled bitterly to herself.  
  
Pushing away from the door, Emilie gathered up her things from Kelly’s desk, holding them while she waited patiently for Reggie to arrive.   
  
“What are you doing here?” She asked. “Your shift doesn’t end for a another three hours…”  
  
“I quit.”   
  
“You quit?!”   
  
“Yep,” she glanced at Kelly and offered a tight smile. “Better get used to seeing a lot more of me, Kells… I’m gonna be here full time now.”  
  
“You’re working for Fontaine full time?” Kelly gaped at her.   
  
“Yeah…” Em sighed, looking up as Reggie approached them. “I guess I am.”   
  
She walked away from the desk and greeted Reggie half way, before following the bruiser to her new office. It had apparently belonged to one of the many scientists that had been under Fontaine’s employ. Had, past tense. The man was killed in a Plasmid testing accident. Burned alive according to Reggie. Em felt a shudder go up her spine at the very thought of it.   
  
Once they reached the office, she was pleased to see a filing cabinet and a desk was already present. She’d just need to nick a workers bench from one of the lower labs and it would be perfect. It even had a coat rack inside and a lock on the door. Christ, her office here actually had a door. Her office in Hephestus didn’t have that. She’d always been jealous of Kyburz for that.  
  
“So…” she said, placing her bag and toolbox down on the desk. “Do I get some big fancy letters outside my door too?”   
  
Reggie smiled at her. “If you’d like them, Ms Em.”   
  
“Ya know..” She said after pondering a moment. “Why not? It’d probably piss Suchong off and I have to have some fun, right?”   
  
Reggie chuckled a little, stepping away from the door. “I’ll leave ya’ to get settled, Ms Em. If ya’ need anythin’ just holler,” he pocketed his hands and offered one last smile. “It’s good to have ya’ workin’ with us, Ms Em… ya’ made the right choice,” with that Reggie walked away and the door to her office slid closed.   
  
She was left alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.   
  
Idly she gazed around her new office, taking it in and already deciding that she’d need another filing cabinet too. There’d probably be one in the storage room, that’s where most of the extra furniture went. Maybe there’d be a workers bench in there too and she wouldn’t have to go down to the lower labs after all.   
  
_‘Do you just like playing roulette with your life and cheer when you dodge a bullet?’_  
  
 _‘You’ve got self destructive tendencies, Em’_  
  
 _‘You always do tend to go for the more dangerous options.’_   
  
“You know something?” She muttered to the empty room as she recalled her friends words. “I’m starting to think they have a point…”

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_The last laugh:_   
  
_Ryan, the paranoid drittsekk, thinks that I’m sleeping around with Fontaine and disclosing Ryan Industries secrets under the sheets. I handed in my resignation right there. Fontaine’s whore? Ha! The man would be so lucky. Still I got the last laugh, as I own the plans for Ryan’s gate and sadly for Mister Ryan, they aren’t for sale._


	35. The Skeleton in the Closet

_Augustus Sinclair,_   
  
_Sacrifices:_   
  
_Things aren’t so rosy for Lamb’s little collective farm down here, no matter how much influence she’s got with the inmates. She keeps feedin’ Ryan more an’ more o’ her people for the Big Daddy program in order to keep the rest of her flock alive… I think she’s gettin’ desperate. I oughta have Weir double the orderlies on all the major junctions._

* * *

  
Sinclair stubbed his seventh cigarette out in his seashell astray, ignoring that fact that his hands were shaking as a whole.   
  
Nervous. Augustus Sinclair was nervous. Who’d of thought that could happen? Not him. He’d prided himself in being able to keep a cool head whenever the going got tough. This was different though. Lamb’s little gatherings were getting more and more restless as time went on. Every time Sinclair sent one of the poor bastards out to be permanently transformed into one of this goddamn Big Daddies, it would seem that a new person would be brought in the same day. The numbers weren’t going down and the new people being brought in would always be more spliced than the current occupants.   
  
He jumped when a loud bang sounded outside. It was just a cell door being opened and new prisoner being placed inside.  
  
Augustus let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, shakily reaching for his cigarette packet to take out cigarette number eight. He didn’t know if his poor lungs could take it, but his nerves craved peace of mind.  
  
It was safe to say since ‘Teleport’ had been brought out, things had gotten increasingly worse. He’d thought the Plasmid would’ve been great and it was. It sold well, almost cleared the shelves the very moment it had been brought out. The only problem was, this Plasmid sent the user extra crazy in record time. Sinclair’s guards and Sullivan had already had to deal with one loopy Plasmid head full of teleport and it had not been pretty. They’d got the splicer in the end, shot it’s arm off with a shotgun and gunned it down with a few well placed shots with a Tommy gun.   
  
_“This is a whole new… how you say it? From baseball…”_  
  
 _“A whole new ballgame.”_   
  
The words of both Karlosky and Sullivan echoed around Sinclair’s head. Honestly? After witnessing first hand what those psychos on teleport where capable of, he understood why Ryan had made Fontaine take it off the shelves. Not that it stopped Fontaine from selling it mind you. No, Frank wouldn’t be pushed around that easily. He’d taken it off the shelves to stop Ryan from digging too deep and uncovering the whole treasure trove of illegal dealings Fontaine had going on behind the scenes. Though Sinclair couldn’t say that Ryan was any less guilty. He’d let it get this far after all.   
  
Sinclair lit cigarette number eight and he smoked it religiously, noticing that his hand managed to steady itself. It would last only for the time he had the cigarette, but it was better than nothing.   
  
He was sorely tempted to take the southern comfort out of his desk again, but decided against it in the end. If Lamb really was planning some sort of take over, he needed all of his wits about him. It had been stupid to let her come here. Should to just let Ryan deal with her himself, he should never had gotten involved. Then all of this panicking and thinking could be on Ryan’s plate and not his.   
  
Glancing down at his radio he wondered if some music would calm him, but if he had the music playing he might not hear an ambush until he lay in his chair was a bullet in his head.   
  
Shuddering, Sinclair looked back at his door. He felt like he was staring it down. Daring it to open.   
  
Another clattering and string of curses sounded outside and that was all it took for Sinclair to place his revolver on his desk, hand hovering over it. Gently tapping at the trigger with his finger, ready, should anyone or anything come through that door. He’d never shot someone before, he often found violence didn’t solve the problems you wanted solving, it just made it worse. Now, however, he was starting to see the benefits of it.   
  
A splicer wasn’t a problem any more if they were dead.   
  
“Survival,” he reminded himself. “It’s just survival, that’s all it is. Just survival.”

* * *

  
Frank Fontaine stared at the baby sleeping in the incubator. Occasionally its hands would flex or its legs would kick. Sometimes its head would turn almost like it could see, but the little bastard still hadn’t opened its eyes yet.   
  
Fontaine regarded this tiny thing, his secret weapon in the making that for now was just an innocent little baby. The kid didn’t know the fate Frank had planned for it. It didn’t know how important or how precious the blood and subsequent DNA flowing through its veins was. Honestly, Frank couldn’t believe he’d actually managed to pull off getting the brat in the first place, but it seemed Jolene hadn’t been that hard to convince, so she couldn’t be that upset with the loss of her kid.   
  
The baby made a garbled noise and Frank narrowed his eyes at it. Honestly, seeing this tiny squishy little thing, he had his doubts. Suchong had promised him a genetic weapon and this tiny little thing couldn’t even open its eyes let alone fire a gun. Perhaps he was being too judgmental. Perhaps he was directing all his hate and loathing for Ryan onto the kid. Not that the sleeping brat would know.   
  
“Amazing isn’t it?” Suchong grinned as he approached him. “Baby only extracted as embryo yesterday and now size of one year old baby. The rest of baby’s growth will be easier to replicate now that child is accustomed to chemicals that make it grow.”  
  
“The kid better be ready, Suchong,” he glared at him, before looking back at the sleeping child. “Fully grown. Strong. Compatible with Plasmids and Tonics with no risk of it gettin’ like the rest o’ those bastard splicers.”   
  
Suchong nodded. “Yes. Baby will be four years old by the end of tomorrow. Suchong shall begin conditioning of child then.”  
  
“Conditioning…” Frank mumbled quietly, looking back at the kid who slept peacefully while the two men discussed its fate. “You’ll really be able to make it respond to key words. Make it do.. whatever I want with just a simple phrase?”  
  
“Yes,” Suchong looked excited at the mere prospect of it. “Child will do whatever Mister Fontaine wishes of it.”  
  
“Even if it’s something it wouldn’t usually do?” He asked, leaning over to take a close look at the tiny human that wiggled a moment, its eyes fluttering under its eyelids. Little bastard still couldn’t open its damn eyes. “Say… say if we gave the kid a puppy or a pet of some kind… ya could make him kill it?”   
  
Suchong nodded again, the grin getting that bit bigger. “Yes, wonderful isn’t it?”   
  
Not quite the words Frank would use, but yes it would be useful. “Yeah, if it works,” he mumbled looking back at the kid. It’s eyes fluttered again, but it still didn’t open them. “Kid needs a name.”  
  
“A name?” Suchong frowned. “Why does baby need name? It is not a person.”  
  
“I ain’t just gonna call the damn thing ‘baby’ or ‘kid’ all the time.”   
  
“Ace in the hole?”   
  
“Not happenin’, Suchong,” he glared at him. “The kid needs a name. Ace in the hole is what we call it in public, but the kid needs a name for himself. Ya’ know? Ta’ make it more realistic. Ryan ain’t gonna suspect anythin’ if I call it by a name.”   
  
Suchong scrunched his nose up in disapproval. “Suchong find that if people name subjects, they get attached,” he narrowed his eyes. “If Mister Fontaine gets attached to subject then all research and work would be for nothing.”   
  
Fontaine stood up a little straighter and grit his teeth. “I ain’t gettin’ attached to the little bastard. He ain’t nothin’ but a weapon. That’s all he is,” he pointed at Suchong angrily. “Don’t be gettin’ smart with me Suchong. I’ve still got spaces open for Plasmid testin’. Get the kid ready in time and it’ll end better for ya’.”   
  
Suchong nodded once before turning and abruptly leaving. No doubt to set up his conditioning program. The bits and pieces that Fontaine had seen and knew about was like something out of a horror film, but he’d come this far. He had the kid, now it was just time to work it through its programming and then it would be ready.   
  
Fontaine leaned on the incubator again, staring down at the baby that was still trying to open its eyes. He frowned at it, watching the thing struggle and that feeling of doubt crept up on him. How was this little thing meant to be a secret weapon. It was helpless. Here Frank was deciding its fate and the little bastard couldn’t even voice any sort of protest. This little thing was somehow going to be his ace in the hole. His grifters ace. The way out should things get too hairy for even Frank to deal with.   
  
“The damn slant don’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” he mumbled staring at the kid. “Ya need a name. Make ya’ feel as real to yourself as possible, so ya at least think you’re a real person,” he gestured between himself and the kid. “But we both know what the real truth is. You ain’t a person. Ya a weapon. A tool. Why, ya’ got more in common with those little ADAM factories than you do a human being,” he paused and tilted his head a little looking the kid over. “Just what the hell am I gonna call you?”   
  
The baby didn’t give any worthwhile contribution. It wiggled its legs again, kicking them out, before reaching hand up towards where Fontaine stood. Its tiny fist open and closed, like it was trying to reach for him despite not being able to see.   
  
Humouring the kid a little, Fontaine reached a hand forward and the baby found his fingers. Frank was surprised at the grip the kid had, it didn’t seem to want to let go now that it had a hold of something either.   
  
“Fuckin’ limpet,” Frank growled trying to shake his finger free. “Let go ya’ little bastard. Jesus Christ!”   
  
If anything the baby’s grip only tightened and it mumbled a little, flexing its fingers before tightening its hold once more.  
  
Frank sighed and rested his head on the palm of his free hand. “Timmy?” He tried but didn’t like it. “Gabriel? Callum? Michael? Christian?”   
  
The baby kicked its legs and reached up with his other hand that Frank ignored.   
  
He found himself trying to come up with a name that would suit the kid. Something that could be an inside joke for himself to enjoy. Just what the hell did you call a kid that was going to be an unstoppable genetically enhanced killing machine? If everything worked out just the way it was supposed to, then the kid would be a jack of all trades.   
  
Frank paused. He glanced at the kid and rose an eyebrow, watching its eyelids flutter again.   
  
“Jack?”   
  
The baby’s eyes finally opened. Two startling baby blue eyes stared up at the sharp brown ones that stared down at him. The baby’s grip tightened once more on Frank’s finger and it reached up with its other hand with more coordination now that it could see.   
  
Despite himself, Frank smiled.   
  
“Jack it is.”

* * *

  
“Not you too?”   
  
Daniel looked up at Kyburz as he packed up the items from his locker. The Aussie looked distraught, eyes wide and pleading with him. Begging him that what he was seeing wasn’t actually what he was seeing. The Daniel wasn’t leaving, but he was. Daniel sighed and gently closed his locker, folding his coat over his arm and ignoring Kyburz’s pleading looks. It wouldn’t do him any good to go soft now. He’d promised Opal after all, especially after the recent increase in deaths around Hephestus. She didn’t want to become a widow and she couldn’t loose him. She said it herself, she loved him and couldn’t bear the thought of loosing him. Not to splicer and certainly not while he worked for a man who didn’t care.   
  
“Daniel?”  
  
“Don’t, Kyburz,” he looked up at him pleadingly. “Don’t. I have to leave. I promised Opal.”   
  
“Why are you leaving?”   
  
“It’s too dangerous,” he said with a shrug. “Not just for me, but for Opal too. Every time she walks to her job in the bar is a time she could get killed. I can’t loose my wife, Kyburz. I can’t,” he shook his head. “I’m going to work behind the bar. The man who used to work there… spliced up. They had a job offering and I got it.”   
  
“We need you here,” Kyburz argued.   
  
“My wife needs me more,” Daniel countered him. “If you were married you’d understand. It’s a life long commitment. Till death do us part and all that,” he gave a little smile. “I married the girl of my dreams… I know the rest of Rapture’s turning into a nightmare but… I don’t want my dream to end just yet.”   
  
“We’re running on a skeleton crew as it is,” Kyburz said, desperately trying to get Daniel to stay and in that moment Daniel pitied him.  
  
When he’d first started working here, he always thought Kyburz did a remarkable job at keeping his head. At being organised. He’d respected the man because no matter what he always seemed to come up with a solution to a problem. Sure the man might’ve been a little paranoid at times, but he was brilliant. Truly he was one of the greatest minds that Rapture had and not many people saw it.   
  
Now, however, he looked like a man that had lost everything and was loosing even more. His suit was a mess, tie lopsided and he hadn’t bothered with a waistcoat this time. His hair was a little mattered and a bit wild, like he hadn’t had time to put it neatly or he just didn’t care anymore. Eyes were wide and he held dark circles under them, from here Daniel could smell the alcohol on his breath.   
  
Then it suddenly hit the young man. Kyburz… looked like he had. He looked like a drunken and frazzled employee who’d just given up and wasn’t ready to admit it just yet.   
  
Daniel wondered in the back of his mind if this feeling of pity was the same feeling Kyburz used to hold for him all those years ago.   
  
“Kyburz… I’m sorry,” he sighed and he truly was. “But I promised Opal. I promised my wife,” he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be smart okay? You always were the smart one, use it now. You know that this place is going to hell, get out while you still can,” he gave him a pointed look. “Tell Em how you feel. Come clean.”   
  
“No and I don't know what you're talking about with Em.” Kyburz shook his head. “If I leave now, who’ll look after this place,” he gestured around himself. “We need the power, Daniel. We need it. I can’t just leave. I can’t just abandon everyone for my own selfish interests.”   
  
“So I’m being selfish now?”  
  
“No,” the Aussie rubbed at his head. “No. No that’s not what I meant… I didn’t mean to say it like that.. I just.. I’ve got responsibilities.”   
  
“So have I,” Daniel argued, glaring at him. “Get a hold of yourself man. The state you’re in, ya’ not going to be helping anyone,” he slipped his coat on, picking up his tools and marching towards the door, but Kyburz grabbed his arm.   
  
“We can’t just give up!” He cried. “We can’t. We owe it. We owe it to the rest of Rapture to keep going.”   
  
Daniel stared at him for a very long time. He wanted to grab Kyburz and shake him. Didn’t he understand how Rapture worked? No one owed anything to anyone in this town except maybe a bullet or two. The city was going to hell, everyone with a working brain in their head could see that.   
  
The splicers didn’t scare Daniel anymore. He’d had to shoot and kill one or two. The first time he’d thrown up straight after and had nightmares. He’d almost gone back to drinking, but Opal was able to stop him. She saved him from making one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever make. Now? Now he’d shoot splicers down no problem. He didn’t flinch when he saw their faces, he felt like the splicers themselves now looked how they truly were. They were ugly, just like their personalities.   
  
The bar Opal worked in had a no splicer policy. Guards on the doors with Tommy guns who would shoot and chase off any splicer that should come near. It was because the bar that Opal now worked in was in the posher parts of Rapture. The high-class could afford the security, whereas the lower-class were unable to afford such luxuries.   
  
Pauper’s Drop from what he heard was almost inhospitable now. Persephone was running out of room. Hestia Chambers was becoming one of the only places safe for the poorer folk. Simply walking to work like Hephestus was like walking through a minefield. You didn’t know where a splicer was going to be and you didn’t know when one might pop out.   
  
After watching so many workers here splice up beyond recognition or get killed by the same splicers, Daniel had called it quits. He’d spoken to Opal about it and she’d encouraged him. They’d argued a little, because yes Daniel felt some sort of responsibility for everyone, but in the end it became clear that leaving Hephestus was the right choice. It didn’t make it an easy choice.   
  
“Kyburz,” Daniel said trying to level with him. “Have you ever been thanked for what you’ve done here? Has any of Rapture’s elite ever given you so much as a sideways glance?”  
  
“That’s not the point- the poorer people, Daniel, we can’t just abandon-.”  
  
“You honestly think that any of the power in Hephestus even reaches Pauper’s Drop? That it reaches any of the poorer parts of Rapture?” He frowned at him. “Because I can tell you first hand it doesn’t. Hell, I’d say most of those folks are just lucky they can afford to pay for oxygen. I’m sure Ryan would have no issue shutting off air flow and letting them all suffocate.”   
  
“H-he wouldn’t!” Kyburz argued.   
  
“Wouldn’t he?”   
  
They fell into silence. Both men staring at each other, unsure of where to go from here. It was probably because there was no where to go. Not from Daniel’s point of view at least. He was done. He’d work in the safer parts. Sure, maybe it wouldn’t be as much money as before, but if it meant that he and Opal would be safe that was all that mattered.   
  
Daniel held a hand out to Kyburz and it took a moment, but in the end Kyburz reluctantly took it.   
  
“Come down to mine and Opal’s on New Years alright? It’s what Em and Clayton are doing.”   
  
“Em’s going to be there?”   
  
“Yeah. We decided to dodge the big celebrations this time. Just a quiet night in with close friends, be awful boring without my best man there.”   
  
Kyburz laughed a little and nodded, taking his hand back. “Yeah… sounds good. I’ll be there. It’ll be nice to see Em and Clayton again. Haven’t see them since she quit.”  
  
“Can you believe Clayton’s nine now?” Daniel laughed, shaking his head and shoving his hand in his pocket. The one where he kept his gun. “Mad isn’t it? How time flies. Blink and you’ll miss it.”   
  
“Yeah…” Kyburz agreed. “Take care of yourself, Daniel.”   
  
“You too,” he patted his shoulder, turning around and walking away from Kyburz.   
  
The bathysphere ride home was a quiet one. Daniel kept his hand in his pocket the entire time. As the little bathysphere floated towards the docking bay, he was able to look over the city. The glowing neon lights twinkled happily at him. Advertisements for Plasmids and Tonics lit up most of Rapture now. Fish swam past the city’s sky scraper buildings, silhouetting themselves against the light. A few of Rapture’s citizens pointed at them and watched in wonder, some even pointed them out to their children.   
  
Out in the big blue you could almost forget about the horrors going on inside this giant aquarium they’d trapped themselves in. Rapture did look beautiful from a distance, even now. Even though a few of the stores and shops that were being advertised by the merry little neon lights were now closed. Either due to a splicer attack or the owner turning themselves into a splicer. Out here? Well, Rapture still held its beauty. Still held that wow factor that had amazed Daniel the very first time he’d seen it.   
  
Sighing, Daniel closed his eyes to appreciate the small moment of calm and quiet he got from being out in the ocean. Hopefully 1957 would be somewhat better. Hopefully Ryan would build a new prison for these splicers and things would go back to some level of normalcy or as normal as they could get when you lived in an underwater city. Hopefully they’d be able to put all this splicing business behind themselves and he and Opal could finally start a family like they’d talked about. Hopefully.

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_Never ceases to amaze:_   
  
_Fontaine never ceases to amaze me. He creates this damn splicer problem in the first place so people want guns, but not all regular guns work on some of these special types. So what does Fontaine do? Has me install these damn power to the people stations, so no he’s making twice as much money and the people love him even more. You should hear the selling tag line, ‘a gun in every home, peace in every street’, ha!_   
  
_Sometimes I feel like that man has an answer for everything. It’d be impressive if he wasn’t so smug about it, the bastard._


	36. You Always Hurt the One you Love

_J.S.Steinman,_   
  
_Lunch with the Goddess:_   
  
_Today I had lunch with the Goddess. “Steinman,” she said… “I’m here to free you from the tyranny of the commonplace. I’m here to show you a new kind of beauty.” I asked her, “What do you mean, goddess?” “Symmetry, dear Steinman. It’s time we did something about symmetry…”_

* * *

  
“You know Picasso was a genius, on that, Steinman my dear fellow, we agree, but!” Cohen stopped his pacing in the operating room, turning to look at the back of Steinman who was leaning over the operating table. “To truly be an artist,” he went on. “One must create their own style! Their own spin and take, if you will.”   
  
“I know this Cohen,” Steinman mumbled as he played with the scalpel in his hand, looking down at the operating table and feeling a surge of anger. “It would just be easier… if. The! Canvas! Would! Stop! Moving!” He screamed, repeatedly stabbing the blade down into the face of the latest splicer Cohen had brought along for the Doctor to practice on.   
  
This had been going on for a while now. Cohen would bring in a new splicer he’d caught or one of his disciples had caught and give it to Steinman as a gift. Ryan didn’t bother with stopping the self proclaimed artist because in truth he was helping with the splicer problem. He just didn’t know the full ins and outs of such transactions.   
  
Steinman had been thrilled with the living, breathing canvases for him to work on. Canvases that were a mess of splicer mutations and skin growths. They also had the wonderful benefit of no one giving a damn about them. They were insane monsters to the rest of the general public, so if they were.. taken care of, the public didn’t care. They didn’t give a damn what happened to the splicers.   
  
Still, with living and breathing moulds of clay came problems. For instance their constant squirming. Steinman would strap them down and sometimes sedate them, but he enjoyed working on them while they were awake. There was just something fascinating about watching the way the subject would begin to panic. Unfortunately this meant that mistakes were often made and Steinman would screw up. There was also that little problem of the splicers dying of shock before the procedure was complete. The doctor would loose his temper then, much like he was doing now.   
  
Cohen stood at a distance watching before approaching slowly, eyeing the swinging blade almost cautiously. Steinman did tend to be a little erratic with the damn thing. He was being so violent with the scalpel that Sander could hear it slice through the air.  
  
“Steinman, Steinman deep breaths!” He instructed. “Do not put holes into your canvas, I know the creative struggles,” he placed a hand on his shoulder and dramatically clenched his fist. “I know it can be frustrating, but… you must follow through to completion. The conception is always the hardest part of any project.”   
  
“I’m just trying to make them beautiful,” Steinman complained, sounding like a child who wasn’t getting his own way. He also sounded a monolog away from another tantrum. “But they twist and squirm… don’t they want to be beautiful?” He looked down at the splicer on the table, its face was pouring with blood, while it stared back at Steinman in horror. It would appear it did have some sanity left in its head to know this wasn’t supposed to be happening, also just because it was insane didn’t mean it couldn’t feel the pain of the blade cutting into its skin. “Don’t you want to be beautiful? Don’t you want to be a work of art? With ADAM it’s a moral obligation to be beautiful. Do you understand?!”   
  
It sounded like Steinman was gearing up for another game of playing pincushion on the splicers face and, as entertaining as it was to watch Steinman turn into a frenzied mess of insanity and destruction… Cohen’s shirt was silk and new. Nothing came out of silk. Especially blood and ADAM.   
  
“Might I make a suggestion?” The artist asked hesitantly.   
  
“I’m always open to other ideas.”   
  
“Why not just… set them on fire? Or freeze them?”   
  
“It damages the flesh, Sander,” Steinman sighed, picking up a syringe filled with ADAM. It glowed a sickly green and hummed with power. It almost looked and felt like a living thing. “I need it like clay. Sculpted. Moulded… like how the gods did it…” he paused as if listening to something before nodded his head in agreement with an unheard set of instructions. “You see, Sander, I’ve been blessed with the images of Aphrodite… the goddess reveals herself to me,” he grinned, “I see her… shimmering and she speaks to me… she shows me true beauty…”   
  
Cohen studied him, glancing at the empty space Steinman was staring dreamily at. There he went again with this line of goddess this and dutiful modification that. It was a little tiresome, but Cohen liked the art work that Steinman would produce. Even the so called ‘failed’ ones. The artist winded his eyes in a universal sign of exasperation before nodding, deciding not to point out how utterly insane the surgeon was.  
  
“Yes… yes of course-.”   
  
“But nothing ever seems to please her!” Steinman screamed, grabbing a bone saw from the table and tossing it across the room. Cohen watched in detached amusement, but he was able to stop himself from laughing. Heaven knows that was probably not a good idea. Steinman didn’t take too kindly to being laughed at.   
  
“Hmm. It would seem your muse is as much of a fickle bitch as mine,” the artist mumbled looking around the operating room at the many failed pieces of artwork. The room, quite frankly, was a mess of dead bodies and medical equipment. Sander was surprised he hadn’t tiedied it, but Steinman assured him that he hid it all away before any of his tiresome real work came into the picture.   
  
It was how he hadn’t been caught yet. That and the fact that the medical pavilion was mostly empty these days. People were either too spliced to care about how they looked, didn’t have enough money because they were splicing or in the medical staffs case after a few incidents involving Houdini splicers moving bodies around and posing them in bizarre manners, majority of the staff had called it quits. They’d started to work in the more well to do areas of the city. Table waiting and such since it was safer than working in a place with a lot of sharp objects and you just didn’t know when a telekinesis splicer would decide they wanted to try juggling.   
  
Cohen had seen the aftermath of that particular instance and he’d been marginally impressed by the telekinesis splicers creativity. Who knew you could telekinetically send a bone saw through someone’s head!  
  
“Perhaps… a tidy?” Cohen suggested, looking at the many bodies that Steinman had worked on just that day. “One does not make good art if one is in a mess,” he gestured around the room. “Surely old canvases can be used?”   
  
“No. I need it fresh and living otherwise it tears and dries up,” he frowned as he looked over his tools. “Can’t do anything with it dry.”  
  
“No… I suppose not,” Sander looked the bodies over. “May I take them? I can certainly turn them into sculptures for my private collection.”   
  
“Yes, yes,” Steinman waved him off. “Do what you like. They’re only cluttering my workspace.”

* * *

  
Sinclair stood in the quiet spot he’d found in Persephone overlooking the trench. On the floor around him were cigarettes, hinting towards his time spent in this one space.  
  
He’d started to carry two packets with him, he was getting through at least one packet a day. He’d have to ask Frank for a new shipment of the good cigarets soon, but he hadn’t seen or heard much from him in a while. The last time he’d heard anything from Fontaine, the man had proudly claimed that he had his ‘grifters ace’ and that ‘everything was going to be just fine’. Sinclair very much doubted that. He very much doubted that everything was going to be ‘just fine’, since everything was turning to shit.   
  
At his side sat his revolver, holstered away but within grabbing distance. He didn’t think he’d get used to carrying one, but low and behold he did. A lot of people were carrying guns now days. You didn’t always see them, they were usually hidden away under coats or in handbags. Sinclair always had his on show, simply because he didn’t want to risk being too slow when reaching for it. If it meant his life wouldn’t be on the line, then yes, he’d gladly show off his high powered revolver if it meant not having to battle with a coat to get to it.   
  
He lit cigarette number ten and blew the smoke to the ceiling, eyes closed and thinking just how in the hell it had come to this. Maybe he was doubting all the money he’d put into the Plasmid business, maybe now he was wishing he hadn’t gotten involved. Maybe he was wishing he’d never come to Rapture, but he was here now. He wasn’t going to back out, it wasn’t in his character. He’d push on, he’d get through it, because really he didn’t have much of a choice. No one did. The irony wasn’t lost on him.   
  
Andrew Ryan had preached that this place, Rapture, would be utopia. Where free will was the utmost important thing. That everyone should have a choice, because that’s what made you a man. That’s what made you different from the rest, your ability to choose. Could it be that they’d all made the wrong choice? That they’d placed their bets on the wrong horse and now it had a broken leg and needed to be put down. Taken out the back and shot in the head.   
  
The citizens of Rapture didn’t get such a luxury. They had the broken leg but were forced to keep pushing, to keep moving forward. Some of them were doing just fine with this, others not so much. Sinclair had seen many people loose their cool. Throw in the towel and either splice up like crazy or.. take the easy way out.   
  
Sinclair shook his head. He was starting to think he was spending too much time in Persephone. This place tended to just suck the life out of you. It hadn’t always been like that. Why, he’d been quite proud of his little profit making scheme with the prison. Now however, he felt trapped. A good con artist should never feel trapped. Feeling trapped meant you were uncomfortable with what you were doing but felt like you were too far into it to stop.   
  
He was abruptly taken out of his thoughts by the sound of multiple cells door sliding open, then Simone Wales’s voice came over the intercom system of Persephone.   
  
“The butterfly takes wing! You know what to do! _The butterfly takes wing!_ ”   
  
The butterfly-? _Lamb_.   
  
Sinclair’s eyes widened and the cigarette fell from his finger tips. He pulled his gun out, turning to find three splicers charging at him. It was now or never.   
  
He fired at them, managed to hit one in the head, the other two dodged out of the way into the cells and Sinclair took a chance. He bolted as fast as he could, dodging the splicers as they reached to try and grab him.   
  
Persephone was in utter chaos, the guards were being swamped by the splicers and other prisoners. Political prisoners of Lamb’s. They took the guards to the ground, Sinclair watched as one of them was mercilessly beaten to death with pouring fists and kicks. A few had even gotten their hands on some metal pips.  
  
A scream sounded behind him and he span to see a splicer leap at him, but it didn’t reach it’s mark. Cavendish shot the screaming monstrosity dead. Its head exploded from the bullets and the blood splattered across Sinclair’s face.   
  
Stunned, Sinclair stood staring at the body. Feeling the warm blood drip down his face. The gun that was in his hand shook violently. He’d never seen someone get shot before. He’d never had to shoot someone, he’d never seen someone’s head explode like a forth of July firework.   
  
Someone, probably Cavendish, roughly grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the exit. Guards were running with them, firing at any splicers that tried to grab at them. Eventually, Sinclair was able to get his legs into gear and sprinted towards the exit with them.   
  
Logically he knew the exit wasn’t too far away, but now it felt like it took an eternity to get to it. They ran over the gangway that joined Persephone with the rest of the city. Augustus was fast to lock it once everyone who’d made it where through.   
  
“The Warden isn’t with us,” one of the guards said.  
  
“That’s because the bastard joined Lamb,” Cavendish replied with a snarl. “Bet she’s been planning this for months! Hell, maybe even years!”   
  
Sinclair listened half heartedly, staring at what had once been his grifters ace. His queen on the chessboard so to speak. Now it was gone. In control of Sofia Lamb, the only good thing was that he’d been able to cut it off from the rest of Rapture. For now.   
  
He glanced at his reflection in the windows, staring at the blood that was still lazily trailing down his face. He could smell the copper and the sickly sweet smell of ADAM lingering with it.   
  
“Where was Ryan? Where was he?!” One of the other guards yelled. “He was going to help us, right? Where was he?!”   
  
_Yes,_ Sinclair thought as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth to wipe his face, _where was goddamn Andrew Ryan?_   
  
Why, he was up in his ivory tower, drinking martinis and barking orders. That’s where Andrew Ryan was. Where he always was. Ignoring the problems and not listening to people. Telling them they had to deal with it themselves.   
  
Angrily, Sinclair scrunched up the now bloodied cloth, his face still had a red tinge to it. He’d need to wash it off with water if he really wanted to make a difference, but right now that wasn’t on his mind. He was going to talk to Andrew Ryan. He’d never been a man that took things to the extreme, but he could still smell that sweet and coppery tang of the splicer’s blood. He could still picture in his minds eye that splicers head blowing up.   
  
“You boys seal off this area,” he snapped, though he wasn’t angry at them. “Nothing gets in or out. We keep that bitch,” he pointed in the direction of Persephone. “In there. She wants the prison? She can have it! But that doesn’t mean she’s gettin’ anything else!”   
  
“What are you gonna do?” Cavendish asked as Sinclair stormed past them, hands clenched and revolver safely secured back in his holster.   
  
“I’m gonna have a word with Andrew Ryan!”

* * *

  
Clayton crawled through one of the many air vents around the Futuristics building. He often listened on the conversations the doctors were having. Sometimes he couldn’t understand them, but most of the time he did. His Mama had said he was a very smart little boy for his age. Told him he was understanding and learning about things that only adults learnt about. Even then some of the adults didn’t understand some of the things that he did.  
  
As he continued to crawl through, he accidentally placed his hand on one of the vents and slipped through, landing hard on the floor below. Groaning, he blinked and rubbed at his head. He hadn’t meant to do that. Now how was he meant to get up there? He’d be in trouble, Mister Fontaine didn’t like him exploring in the Futuristics vents. Said that there were dangerous places that he had no business being in.   
  
Before Clayton could even ponder what he was meant to do, something small and furry bounded over to him. It wasn’t very big but it had a mouth full of teeth and it was white and brown.   
  
Clayton yelped and backed away from the strange creature, then he recognised what it was from one of his books about the surface. It was a dog. Given its size and behaviour it was a puppy too. Dogs weren’t allowed in Rapture, Ryan was against any one having pets, but that didn’t stop people. It didn’t explain why this puppy was here though. Was it Mister Fontaine’s puppy? For some reason, Clayton couldn’t imagine Mister Fontaine owning a pet.   
  
“Who are you?”   
  
Clayton jumped and looked up to find a little boy standing at the other end of the room. The boy was dressed in a hospital gown and had a few wires stuck to him. They stretched back towards a machine that looked it was monitoring the boys heart and other vitals. He wasn’t a very big, only a little taller than Clayton was and he had big baby blue eyes with golden brown hair that looked to be a bit of a mess.   
  
The hospital gown made Clayton frown a little. Was the other boy sick? If he was sick why was he here? He didn’t look sick.. maybe a little dark around the eyes, but he didn’t look ill.   
  
“I’m Clayton,” he pointed to himself, before pointing back at the other boy. “Who are you?”   
  
“I’m Jack,” the boy grinned at him. He was missing some of his teeth. “That’s my puppy,” he said gesturing to the puppy that was licking at Clayton’s fingers, wagging its tail. “She’s really nice and friendly. Mister Fontaine gave it to me to keep me company.”   
  
Clayton frowned a little and maybe he felt a hint of jealousy. Mister Fontaine hadn’t given _him_ a puppy.   
  
“Cool,” he said, looking down at the dog and standing up. “What’s her name?”  
  
“I called her Poppy,” Jack said. He looked at Clayton almost curiously, stepping a little closer, the wires stretched out on the floor behind him. “What where you doing in the vent? Are you like me? Have you been outside?”   
  
Clayton blinked at the questions being frown at him. “What do you mean, ‘have I been outside’? Have you never been outside?” He frowned at him.  
  
It was then that Clayton finally took in the room he was standing in. It was a bedroom. Done up like a little boy’s room, with a few books and a few toys. The illusion of the room was shattered by the medical equipment in the room with the boy. The machines that were clearly monitoring the child and his vitals.   
  
Clayton frowned at the boy again, who didn’t seem at all fazed by the odd set up. “Are you sick?”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“Sick?” Clayton asked again, gesturing to the machines. “I’ve only seen those used on people who are ill. Are you ill? Is that why you’re here?”  
  
“Oh! No, I live here,” he smiled at him. “Those are just to make sure that… my vitals are okay.. from the…” he trailed off, thinking. “From the growth hormones that I’m being given,” he nodded his head, rocking back and forth on his heels. “That’s what Papa Suchong said.”  
  
“Papa Suchong?”  
  
“Yeah! Papa Suchong and Mama Tenenbaum! I used to call Mister Fontaine ‘Papa’ too, but he got angry at me,” Jack frowned looking at the floor. “I don’t know why he got angry at me. I said I was sorry and he told me it was okay…” he looked back at Clayton again. “Do you know Mister Fontaine?”   
  
“Yeah…” Clayton said, looking around the room. He was more confused than anything. “My Mama works for Mister Fontaine. She doesn’t like him but,” he smiled at Jack. “I do. Sure he can be a little grumpy, but he’s nice to me.”  
  
“He’s nice to me too. Nicer than Papa Suchong,” Jack frowned. “He just says I’m meant to learn my lessons and listen to the… the…” the boy trailed off, his eyes seemed to glaze for a moment, but he blinked back to himself. “Do you want to be friends?”  
  
Clayton blinked a moment in surprise, but he had been lonely recently. He didn’t know where Eleanor was and he felt like something must of happened, but he hadn’t been able to go out and find her. He’d been too scared. So, it would be nice to have a friend.  
  
“Yeah!” He grinned at him. “I want to be friends! My Mama works here a lot, so I’ll be able to come and see you again.”   
  
Jack clapped his hands excitedly. “I’ve never had a friend before!”   
  
Clayton frowned at him again. When Jack’s eyes had glazed like that he’d gotten worried that Jack was going to hurt himself. That something was wrong. He’d only ever seen people’s eyes glaze over like that when they were dying, but Jack was fine.   
  
Before he could ask any more questions the door to Jack’s room opened. Mister Fontaine and Doctor Tenenbaum stood on the other side, they both looked surprised to see Clayton inside.   
  
Jack grinned and waved at them. “Hello Mama Tenenbaum, hello Mister Fontaine,” he quickly ran over to Clayton and grabbed his arm excitedly. “This is Clayton! He’s my friend!”   
  
Fontaine was the first to come back to himself. He glanced at Clayton who smiled sheepishly at him. “Just how the hell did you get in here?”  
  
“He fell from the ceiling!” Jack supplied.   
  
Tenenbaum and Fontaine looked up at the ceiling to see the hole where the air vent was. Frank sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he almost looked disappointed with Clayton and annoyed too.   
  
“I’m really sorry, Mister Fontaine,” Clayton said. “I was just exploring. I didn’t mean to fall in,” he glanced at Jack and grinned. “But it’s okay, I met Jack and his puppy, Poppy! She’s really pretty! I’ve never seen a puppy before.”   
  
Fontaine glanced at Tenenbaum. “You’re gonna have to move the kid. He can’t be somewhere with an air vent,” he said to her, before turning back to Clayton. “Come on kid. Ya’ gotta go.”   
  
“Aww…” Jack said looking at the floor sadly. “But he just got here. I’ve never had a friend before, please Mister Fontaine! Can’t he stay a little longer? It’s no fun playing by myself.”  
  
“Ya’ got your dog ain’t ya?”  
  
“Yeah, but-.”   
  
“Then no buts. Clayton, come on.”   
  
Clayton frowned. “But Mister Fontaine… can’t Jack play with me?”   
  
Fontaine narrowed his eyes and Clayton shrank in on himself. “I said,” the man snarled in a voice Clayton had never heard directed at him before. “Ya gotta go.”   
  
“Yes Mister Fontaine,” Clayton mumbled, his head hung down as he stepped out, Fontaine placed a hand on his shoulder, leading him away.   
  
Clayton looked behind him to see Jack with Tenenbaum, who was also leading the other little boy somewhere. Jack looked over at Clayton and smiled, giving him a little wave. Clayton smiled and waved back.   
  
Eventually Jack disappeared around a corner and Clayton didn’t see him again after that. As Fontaine lead him to the elevator, Clayton looked up at him in confusion. Fontaine had sounded pretty angry with him. More angry than he’d ever been, but he supposed he had been bad. He’d gone exploring when Mister Fontaine had told him not to.  
  
“I’m really sorry, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Clayton said again, nervously fiddling with his broken watch. “I’m sorry I went exploring in the vents.”   
  
Fontaine sighed, finally looking down at him. “What have I told ya? Not to go exploring in those things, what would’ve happened if ya fell into one of the dangerous parts of the labs huh? Ya could’ve been hurt, kid.”  
  
“I know.. I’m sorry, I just get curious.”  
  
“Then ask Reggie to show ya round, but no more explorin’ by ya self. Understand?”  
  
“Yes Mister Fontaine,” Clayton nodded, but a frown fell across his face. “What’s wrong with Jack? Why is he here? He said he lived here.”   
  
“Kid’s confused is all,” Fontaine shrugged. “He’s ill. Part of the charity work I’m doing is helpin’ kids ain’t it? Well, Jack is just that. He’s a sick kid so Suchong and Tenenbaum are working on him. He’s been here a while. Probably why he got all confused,” he smiled at Clayton and ruffled his hair. “He’s fine though. You’ll see, right as rain in no time.”  
  
“Will I see him again?”   
  
Fontaine’s smile left his face. “No. Jack needs to be left alone to get better. If he has constant visitors he’ll be really tired and then get worse,” he looked Clayton in the eye. “You wouldn’t want him to get worse would you?”  
  
“No!” Clayton cried, eyes wide and terrified. “I don’t want him to get even more sick, he’s my friend!”   
  
“You only just met him.”  
  
“He’s my _friend_ ,” Clayton said more firmly. “I’ll let him get better and then I’ll play with him. Maybe once he’s better he could come and live with me and Mama?”  
  
“Won’t be needed. Jack’s got parents,” he said. “We’re helpin’ them and him, but it’s a secret,” he gave Clayton a pointed look. “His parents are very… well to do people. They want their private life ta be kept private, so no mentionin’ this to anyone, you understand?”   
  
Clayton nodded quickly. “I won’t say anything, Mister Fontaine. Promise!”  
  
Fontaine’s smile was back on his face and he ruffled Clayton’s hair again. “Good boy. Now, how’s about we go over those pick pocketin’ techniques huh?”   
  
“Yeah!” Clayton bounced on his toes excitedly, clapping his hands together. He paused a moment, looking up at Fontaine. “Will you tell Jack that I’m letting him get better before I come and see him again?”   
  
“Sure, kid,” Fontaine replied, smiling at him. “I’ll pass ya’ message on.”  
  
“Thank you, Mister Fontaine.”   
  
Clayton promised himself that he’d find Jack as soon as he was better. He’d show him around Rapture and all the pretty places that were Clayton’s favourites. Like Arcadia and the Ice Rink. He’d show him all the really cool books he had about the surface. He was certain Jack would like that. Maybe they could even take Jack’s puppy for a walk in Arcadia? Yeah, that would be fun!   
  
As they walked through the building, one of the more spliced up individuals that still worked there leered at Clayton a little. The boy grabbed Fontaine’s hand out of fear, staring at the splicer as they went past. Clayton felt Fontaine tense a little when he grabbed his hand, but he relaxed, returning Clayton’s tight hold with a gentle, almost hesitant one. Even when they passed the splicer, Fontaine didn’t let go and Clayton grinned.   
  
It was the first time Mister Fontaine had ever let Clayton hold his hand or even get this close to him. All the other times he’d flinched or kept Clayton at a distance, sometimes even shove him off, though it was never hard enough to hurt him. Clayton just thought Mister Fontaine didn’t liked to be touched, so when he remembered he kept his distance, but every so often he’d forget.   
  
When they came round the corner and spotted Clayton’s mother, Fontaine was quick to let go of the boys hand. He put his hands in his pockets and didn’t look at Clayton a moment, nodding at his mother.   
  
The young boy understood and was quickly running to his mum, engulfing her in a hug and she laughed hugging him back.   
  
While the two where engaged with each other, Frank pulled his hand out of his pocket and stared at it like it was some form of alien object. He flexed his fingers a little, staring a bit in wonder that he’d actually allowed the kid to get that close. That he let Clayton hold his hand and didn’t bother to shake him off. Worse, he’d returned it, albeit hesitantly.   
  
There was no point in denying it anymore, he cared about the kid. Clayton was… important to him. Somehow. Somehow the brat had weeded his way into that shrivelled up piece of blackness he called a heart and it didn’t look like Fontaine was going to be getting rid of him any time soon.   
  
A few years ago that would’ve worried him, but now..? It didn’t feel quite as bad as it would’ve done. After all, how much harm could one little boy do?

* * *

  
_Yi Suchong,_   
  
_Fontaine’s Jukebox:_   
  
_All those years we thought we were making progress: with our Skinner boxes and our electric shocks… what a waste of time. Until ADAM, you could no more domesticate a child than a boa constrictor… Fontaine gives Suchong history for child that he wants to imprint into child’s head. Kid not a person, he jukebox, ready to play whatever tune Fontaine wants to hear._


	37. Mack the Knife

_Reggie,_   
  
_Turning up the heat:_   
  
_So the heats turning up real bad now, but the boss is ready. He’s got a plan and it’s gonna work, I know it will. Got me and Limey a safe place ta lie low after, I just gotta make my appearance then get outta there. Problem is, that weasel journalist Poole has been skulking round, little too close fer my liking. Considerin’ breaking his fingers next time I see him. Boss told me not ta on account of him tellin’ people, but the ways I see it, who’s the little bastard journalist gonna be able to tell if all his fingers are broke? Can’t use a typewriter then can ya? Maybe I’ll break his jaw too just ta be safe._

* * *

  
It was late in the evening. Fontaine’s penthouse was quiet and most of the lights were out, save for the bathroom one where Frank stood, gazing at himself in the mirror. He was not a vane man, he changed his appearance so many times, but that had all been makeup. Makeup and wigs. Acting thrown in for good measure. He had to make this choice, Ryan was boxing him in. He wouldn’t be able to hold him off for long and logically he knew that. This was still a big change.   
  
He lifted a hand up touched his face for a moment, before shaking himself out of the doubt. This was his choice. He wasn’t going to loose, he’d come too far. He’d done too much.   
  
His ace in the hole was almost ready. He was almost a full grown adult now. Almost. The accelerated growth had been a bit weird at first, but he soon found that he got used to it, like he did with most things. If you watched it for a while, you got used to it.  
  
The Little Sister’s still creeped him out. He couldn’t bring himself to look at them for too long. When Limey and Reggie had found out about the brats their new role as ADAM factories, they’d been angry. Furious even. In all his years of working with them, he’d never seen them so angry. They said that he’d gone too far with that one, but Fontaine argued with them. He pointed out that if it wasn’t for him those girls would have no where to live. They’d be left on the streets. At least in the Orphanages and the Educational facility, they had food, clothes, warmth and shelter. They were guarded with the best technology. Their rooms were painted up nice and pretty in pink, like a little girls room should be. They had bunk beds so they’d never be alone and toys so they could play. Their beds weren’t even bed bug ridden, like Frank’s had been in the orphanage.  
  
He’d raised all those points to Limey and Reggie. He pointed out how he was doing those kids a favour, the ADAM was just an added bonus.   
  
_“Think of it as them payin’ their rent by givin’ me the ADAM,”_ he’d said. _“I’m doin’ them a favour! Without me they’d be on the street and dead in a week. They should be thankin’ me!”_   
  
They got over it. They still helped him, but both refused to go with him, well, Reggie would now. Limey wouldn’t. Said she didn’t want anything to do with it. She’d looked horrified when Frank threw her own words back at her, _‘it’s okay, Limes’_ he’d said, smile almost manic, _‘Ya’ get used to it. Ya gonna have to get used to it, you’re dealin’ with science now.’_   
  
Maybe it was cruel but he could do without their judging. So he just pointed out the simple fact that they were no better.  
  
Frank’s eyes flickered back to the mirror and his reflection. This might be the last time he ever looked at his face… while it looked like this ever again. He’d gone to Steinman and asked for a new face. A good face. Not like some of the freak shows he’d been tossing out recently. A face that people would trust. That was friendly and open to everyone. The kind of face that instantly said ‘I’m a nice, honest person, you can trust me’. The doctor was going to deliver, or else he’d find himself shot out of an airlock without a diving helmet.   
  
Fontaine tiredly rubbed at his eyes, wandering into his bedroom and staring at the box that lay on his bed. It wasn’t for him, it was for the kid. Clayton. His final gift to the boy before he vanished. Well, before he… ‘died’.   
  
It wouldn’t be the first time Frank had to dodge a bullet. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to fake his death, but this was an entirely different kind of ball game. Usually when he faked his death he went somewhere else afterwards. New York was a big city after all and if worst came to worst, he would always train hop and leave town for a few months before coming back. He didn’t have such luxury with Rapture and he wasn’t planning on leaving either.   
  
Frank Fontaine had to die, however, so that Frank could live. So he could win. There did come the unfortunate issue of who was going to be the fall guy? Who was going to take his place?   
  
He sat down at the edge of his bed, picking up the box and laying it in his lap, staring at the polished wooden floor. If the argument about the Little Sisters had been a big one, the argument regarding the fall guy had been worse. Unsurprisingly, Reggie had volunteered. Good old Reggie, loyal to the very end. Never took a moment to think for himself, it was always about Frank or Limey. They’d argued. Frank outright had said no, but Reggie had pointed out that he was the only one that had a similar accent to Frank and that he knew how Frank spoke.   
  
On rare occasions Reggie could be annoyingly smart. So, Fontaine had agreed. Told Reggie to make a show of it and when it came down to it. Play dead. Act like he’d gone down and then they’d sort out the fact that Reggie looked like Frank later. They’d get Steinman to fix him back or something.   
  
Reggie had smiled and nodded along, but there was something… off with it. It felt like the bruiser was thinking of a different plan. One that he wasn’t going to be sharing with Fontaine, even though he assured Frank that he’d stick to the plan. That he’d follow it.   
  
Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying, but why would Reggie lie?   
  
Sighing he ran a hand over his head again, looking down at the box on his lap. He couldn’t just leave this, there needed to be something with it. He’d write the kid a note, Clayton at least deserved that much. Damn that boy for getting so irritatingly close to Fontaine that he felt obliged to comfort him in the event of his ‘death’.   
  
It wasn’t his fault. Whatever happened after this wasn’t his fault. Ryan had been the one to draw first blood with having people hung. Fontaine had tried to reason with him, but Ryan wasn’t having it. So fine. If the old man wanted a war then by god he was going to get one. Who was Fontaine to deny Andrew Ryan the thing he was obviously craving.   
  
Ryan wanted Frank Fontaine dead, so he’d just give him what he wanted. The old bastard would walk right into the trap and not even realise it.   
  
_“See people look up to him because he’s the shining example right? But if he breaks his own rules, does a corporate takeover…”_   
  
He smiled to himself, recalling what he’d told Reggie when they shared a drink back at the Fisheries. A drink that felt like it’d be the last one they’d ever have. What an odd feeling that was. He’d berated himself for being so silly. Reggie would still be there, of course he would.   
  
Frank took one more glance at the box on his lap and sighed. He got up, wandering over to his office. Yeah, he needed to write a letter to Clayton. The kid deserved that much. Hell, the boy deserved so much more, he certainly deserved a better father figure than what he had. Fontaine wasn’t stupid, he’d seen the way the kid had looked at him. Eyes filled with adoration and love. At first, he’d used that to his own advantage, but now… he just felt sorry for the kid.   
  
Clayton wanted Fontaine to be something he never would be.   
  
Still, in a place like Rapture, it wasn’t like the kid was swimming in great male role models. Maybe he was the best one the kid could have, because at least he’d taught Clayton how to survive. The boy only saw them as fun games for now, but in the coming months… Fontaine had a feeling that Clayton would find a very good use for them.   
  
He finished his letter, slipping it away in an envelope and pinning it to the front of the box, writing Clayton’s name on the front. He left the box in his office and went back to his bedroom, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and taking a look around for a moment. Between Clayton and Jack… Fontaine was up to his neck in kids. Even Jack, Ryan’s bastard son that Andrew Ryan didn’t even know about, was nothing like Andrew Ryan himself.   
  
Jack was kind and compassionate. Fontaine sure as hell didn’t know where the kid had picked that up, certainly wasn’t from his genetics and certainly wasn’t from him or the two doctors that had worked on him. Jack was like Clayton. They both grew up in the worst place imaginable and came out two of the kindest and most compassionate people Fontaine had ever met. It was just a weakness of course. That’s all compassion was. A weakness. Something other people could take advantage of. He should know, it’s how he got people to do things they didn’t want to do.   
  
Sighing Frank poured himself another drink. He’d be glad when Jack was gone, when they sent him topside to hide him. He just added more confusion and irritation to the mess of feelings that Fontaine did a good job of repressing. Clayton was bad enough. He didn’t need two of them.   
  
It would all be over soon. He wouldn’t have this doubt or these confusing and conflicting thoughts. He could just settle on paying attention to his goal and soon Ryan would be floating in the briny and Frank would be at the top.   
  
It was just a matter of time.

* * *

  
“I’m surprised Ryan allowed you to do this.”   
  
Em laughed as she fixed up the ‘Power to the People’ station in Kyburz’s office. Fontaine had her design them and set them up around Rapture. They were nearly everywhere now.   
  
The stations were a weapon upgrade station. The splicers were getting tougher and tougher the more they spliced up and people were getting desperate. Nearly everyone had a weapon now, but some of the more spliced up individuals weren’t being put down with regular guns. So, Fontaine had her build these stations. He’d advertised them heavily, ‘a gun in every home, peace on every street’, some of the richer people even had a station in their home.  
  
This one though, Em had placed it in Kyburz’s office. He was her good friend and she wasn’t going to have him get hurt. Also, he was one of the few people she trusted with this thing. The upgrades she made available for people were… well, they were big. Damage increase and all that. Her hand cannon almost worked like an actual cannon now. When she’d tested it on one of the dummies she blew the things head off. No splicer was getting up from that.   
  
“As much as the old bastard hates to admit it, these things are useful,” she grinned up at him from her place on the floor. “So yeah, he’s letting this be put in place. He doesn’t know I’m putting it in your office, though, Kyburz,” she smiled softly at him.   
  
“Your secrets safe with me,” Kyburz smiled. “So… 1957 has been an… interesting year.”  
  
“To say the least,” Em mumbled. “Ya know, Clayton’s even got an imaginary friend now?”   
  
“I didn’t think Clayton was the type.”   
  
“Neither did I,” she frowned a little. “Opal told me he sits by their air vent and talks into it. She told me that he’s talking to his imaginary friend he’s named Gabriel. He’s never made up an imaginary friend before, but I think he’s lonely,” she sighed and got up, brushing herself down. “Eleanor’s gone missing.”  
  
“Eleanor? You mean Lamb’s kid?”   
  
“Yeah. Clayton was friends with her,” she frowned a little, but a smile flickered across her face in a moment. “To be honest, I think he had a bit of a crush.”  
  
“Oh?” Kyburz grinned. “How can you tell?”  
  
“A mother knows these things,” she replied, putting her tools away in her toolbox. “You learn how to notice the signs. I just can’t believe that he’s going to be nine next month.”   
  
1957 had been a weird year. More splicers, more deaths. LaLorna’s spectacular death on the eve of 1955 had only been the beginning of strange and dramatic deaths. Then there was the fact that Sofia Lamb had taken over Persephone. Sinclair hadn’t been all too pleased with that. He’d been angry at Ryan from what she’d heard, but there wasn’t much he could do.   
  
Unfortunately, because they lost the prison, there weren’t very many places you could stick the splicers now. So most of them were just being killed on sight. A few were captured, not that Em knew what happened to any of them. They’d probably been executed in private. It would make the most sense.   
  
Then there were the parts of the Futuristics building and other Fontaine related buildings that Em wasn’t allowed in. She was suspicious, what more could that bastard be hiding? When it concerned Fontaine, however, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. With that man it was safer sometimes not to. Though, she had noticed the slight rift that had occurred between Frank, Reggie and Limey. Something was off. Something that those two didn’t agree with, but she wasn’t entirely sure what.   
  
Things had seemed to settle down between the three of them for now, however, so she could relax a little bit. She always got worried when the bosses were at odds with each other. Especially Limey and Frank, Jesus Christ, she’d only walked past the door when those two were having an argument and decided very quickly she never wanted to get on the bad side of Limey ever.   
  
“Time’s flown by…” Kyburz agreed, looking at Em and offering a small smile. “You’ve almost settled down.”   
  
“Settle down?” She scoffed a little. “I’m never going to settle down. Sure, I have my son…but do you honestly see me as the ‘white picket fence’ kind of girl?”   
  
“I’d say it would suit you,” Kyburz laughed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “But, no, I suppose not. Guess it doesn’t really suit you after all or maybe… you just haven’t found the right person?”  
  
“Me?” Em pointed at herself, pulling her coat on while she was at it. “Jesus, Kyburz, I don’t think I’m ever going to settle down with a man. Hell, I don’t think I’m going to settle down with anyone… that requires me falling in love,” she laughed at the very idea. “Christ that requires someone falling in love with me which…” she shook her head, picking up her toolbox. “Yeah, I’ve resigned myself to being alone. I’m fine with that. I have my son and my friends, I don’t need to be married to be happy. Certainly wouldn’t be settling down even if I was married.”  
  
“No,” Kyburz agreed softly, looking up at her. “But what if… what if someone did.. love you?”  
  
She frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”   
  
He stared at her for a moment, almost looking like he wanted to tell her something, before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Forget it,” he laughed, but it sounded forced out. “Just.. hypothetically… if someone did love you…?”  
  
“I’d ask them to see a head shrink,” she replied gesturing to herself, before walking towards the door. “I mean look at me. You’d have to be crazy to want this. A battered and scarred woman who has a temper shorter than any lit fuse in the universe. There are a lot of dames out there. They could do better.”   
  
“What if they didn’t want ‘better’, what if they just wanted you?”   
  
She froze at the door, shaking her head softly. “No one just wants ‘me’, they’d want me to change. Want me to settle down,” She spat the words out, “Or ‘you should smile more’,” Em rolled her eyes scoffing, but she flashed Kyburz a smile as she left. “I’ll see you around, Kyburz.”   
  
For some sickening and terrible reason, Kyburz felt like he wouldn’t. It felt like that was going to be the very last time he’d ever see her.

* * *

  
It was quiet in the Manta Ray Lounge, one of the few establishments in the Department Store that Fontaine actually owned himself. Usually it would be open and filled with the hustle and bustle of people, but tonight it had been closed by Limey and Reggie.   
  
The two sat quietly at the bar. Reggie was cleaning his gun, a forgotten cigarette in an ashtray and a glass of beer that had since gone warm. Next to him, Limey took a hesitant sip of her tea, staring at the various bottle that lined the back shelves of the bar.   
  
They didn’t speak, just sat quietly together. Not even a song played in the background, it was just the quiet hum of the ocean around them.   
  
The Manta Ray Lounge was one of the most exclusive bars in the city. People from all across Rapture sort it out because ‘happy hour’ at the Lounge meant it was selling real alcohol brought in from topside. People had rather grown tired of the watered down nothingness they had to call alcohol in this place and they wanted the real stuff. The real alcohol and real tobacco. Limey herself was smoking one of these real cigarettes and sipping from real earl grey tea. It was the little things that kept her going in Rapture.   
  
“Are we going to talk about it?”  
  
“What’s there to talk about?”  
  
“Reginald…”  
  
“Limes,” he sighed looking up at her pleadingly. “He’s the boss. We do what he says and besides…” he shrugged a little going back to his gun. “He’s right. He has given them kids a better chance. Food, shelter, protection-.”  
  
“Yes I heard him,” she replied, setting the tea cup down. “Though I wonder if he did such things for his own peace of mind. I doubt the girls had anything to do with it. You heard him. He can’t even call them children anymore.”  
  
“It’s easier if ya don’t,” Reggie mumbled quietly, paying very close attention to his gun. Almost cleaning it as a distraction. “I ain’t betraying him, Limes.”   
  
“I’m not suggesting-,” she stopped and sighed, taking her glasses off and starting to clean them for the same reason Reggie was. It was a distraction. “Listen. I would never betray him and in truth, the… children were not what I wished to speak about,” she eyed him a moment, despite her vision being a bit blurred. “I wanted to talk about… the con. The swap.”   
  
“Oh,” the bruiser blinked at her and shrugged. “I make my appearance when Ryan comes and then… yeah. I ‘die’,” he made the air quotes with his hand. “Or more like, the boss dies.”   
  
Limey gave him a very long and very level look. She slipped her glasses on and it became sharper than before. She wasn’t an idiot, far from it. She was also gifted with the ability to read people and she knew that Reggie was lying.   
  
“You’re not planning on walking away from that shoot out, are you?”   
  
Reggie was quiet. He laughed softly, looking down at his gun again and slowly began to load the bullets into the chamber. His hands were surprisingly steady. They didn’t shake or sweat. Not the typical reaction to someone who knew and planned to die. It seemed that Reggie had made peace with himself and his decision, even if Limey hated it. Even if she and he both knew Frank would be livid.   
  
“Reginald-.”  
  
“Limes.”   
  
“Would you stop!” She snapped at him, clutching at her tea cup tighter than before. “Jesus, how are you so calm?”  
  
He shrugged a little. “Just made up my mind I guess. It’s the only way.”   
  
“What are you-.”  
  
“There needs to be a body, Limes,” he fixed her with a look. “Ryan ain’t gonna relax until he’s certain the boss is dead.”   
  
“We’d swap the body!” She argued. “That’s the plan you know-.”  
  
“Too risky,” he shook his head and smiled at her. “It’s okay. Everythin’s gonna be fine, Limes. The boss has it all worked out, like he always does. He just… needs a little help is all. Too damn proud to admit it, but he knows I’m right or at least he would if…”   
  
“You haven’t told him?!”  
  
“Of course not,” he frowned at her. “He’s got enough on his plate. Don’t need anymore,” he fixed her with a look. “You ain’t gonna tell him either.”   
  
“You’re asking me to keep this a secret?!” Her eyes widened. “Reginald- that, that’s asking too much. I can’t knowingly let you-.”  
  
“Yes you can,” he responded without even hesitating.   
  
Sighing Reggie slipped his gun into his holster and gently took her shaking hands in his large ones. Limes may act cold and heartless but the woman did care in her own way. They were an odd little family, her, Reggie and Frank. They’d been stuck with each other since the boss was just a ten year old little street runt. Reggie cared about the little bastard like he was his own.   
  
“Known that kid since he was just yay high,” he showed the vague height with his hand. “He’s my kid, Limes. Ya’ do anythin’ for your kid. Anythin’. Even if it means sacrificing ya self, it doesn’t matter. The boss is gonna win. He’s gonna take this city, I know he will,” he smiled at the thought of it, feeling a brief flash of pride. “Kid’s all grown up now. He’s gonna make it. He’s a survivor after all, always has been.”   
  
“Caring about him is one thing, but what you’re-.”  
  
“Sometimes ya’ gotta make the hard choices, Limes,” he squeezed her hands a little. “But I gotta be honest… this was the easiest choice I ever made. Now I don’t know.. if Frank sees me just as muscle or family, but I’d like ta think we mean at least a little to him,” he shrugged a bit. “Or maybe we don’t. It doesn’t change how I see him.”  
  
“You’re too good for him, Reginald.”  
  
“Yeah…” he smiled sadly. “Maybe I am, but I still see that little ten year old we found that winter. I still see little Frankie,” he let go of her hands and finished his beer, grimacing at the temperature. “He’s my kid, Limey. My kid. You do anything to protect your kid.”  
  
“Yes, but this?”   
  
He gave her a stern look. “Frank Fontaine has to die,” he said with determination. “Frank Fontaine has to die, but,” a smile flickered across his face. “The boss’ll still be here, Limes.”   
  
He reached over the bar and picked up another bottle of beer and opened it. Turning back to Limey he smiled at her and held the bottle up to her.   
  
“Come on,” he said. “One last drink. For old times sake.”

* * *

  
 _Frank Fontaine,_  
  
 _Say Goodbye to Fontaine:_  
  
 _Every time Ryan turns up the heat, I know I’m a little bit closer to beatin’ him at his own game. But now the game’s changin’- Ryan’s boys are comin’ in heavy- lookin’ to knock down my door and take what’s mine. Like this is the first time I had to doge a bullet. They’re comin’ to my house expectin’ a show, but they’re gonna get a_ disappearin’ act.   
  
_Say goodbye to Fontaine… (cocks shotgun and switches to a thick Irish accent) and hello to Atlas._


	38. I'll Walk Alone

_Brigid Tenenbaum,_   
  
_Hatred:_   
  
_One of the children came and sat in my lap. I push her off, I shout, “Get away from me!” I can see the ADAM oozing out of the corner of her mouth, thick and green. Her filthy hair hanging in her face, dirty clothes, and that dead glow in her eye… I feel… hatred, like I never felt before, in my chest. Bitter, burning fury. I can barely breath. And suddenly, I know, it is not this child I hate._

* * *

  
New Years Eve in Rapture this year was quieter than the other years. Mostly because people didn’t feel like celebrating at all. Emilie certainly didn’t. It felt less like celebrating a new year and more like celebrating surviving last year.   
  
She pulled her hair down from the messy bun she’d put up into as she wondered out of the bathysphere show rooms the Department store. Honestly, the bathyspheres made by Fontaine Futuristics… well, majority of them were death traps. They had fatalities. Not that Frank would hear anything of it, however. Though, in some ways, Em felt like whoever bought them got what they paid for. The deaths were advertised in the paper and people were still buying the damn things. She’d tried her best to work on them, but there was very little she could do.   
  
Walking past the Manta Ray Lounge she was surprised to find it not open. Usually this place would be filled with people, all desperate for that taste of real alcohol and tobacco. Maybe even something a little heavier. She walked past the bar, even though her mouth watered at the idea of tasting just a sip of alcohol. That was a very slippery slope she did not want to slide down again. Never again.   
  
She wandered through to the toy department, taking the service elevator and sure enough, there was Clayton with Reggie. Her little boy had grown up a lot in the recent years. He was still only nine years old, but some of the conversations they’d had recently felt more like conversations you’d have with an adult. He asked questions about the splicers and she answered them as best she could. He’d confused her further by nodding and saying “that’s what Gabriel told me,” before going into another boat load of questions.   
  
Reggie smiled at her when she came over, Clayton was busy looking at a toy boat. She found it strange that they sold such things since a child of Rapture would never see a boat. Not unless they could get out somehow. The idea had played in the back of her mind for a while now, she just wasn’t sure how she’d quite do it.   
  
“Happy New Year, Ms Em,” he smiled, before shrugging. “Or ya’ know… when it comes.”   
  
“Yeah, Happy New Year to you too, Reggie,” she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I dare say Fontaine will have some grand plan for next year. He’ll find something for me to do,” she frowned a little, finally noticing that Clayton was holding something in his hand.   
  
“Oh… I’m sure he will,” Reggie laughed a little, nudging at Clayton’s arm. “You gonna show ya’ Ma what you bought?”  
  
“Oh!” Clayton span around and ran over to her, hugging her legs and that’s when she got a clear view of what he’d bought himself. “Look, Mama! I got an Air Grabber!” He held it up for her to see. “It’s so cool! I was on the pnuemo lines!” He pointed to the twirling and spiralling pipe lines above them.   
  
She frowned a little, glancing at the Air Grabber. It was one of Fontaine Futuristics’s many weird and wonderful creations. She wasn’t entirely sure what the proper use for it was, but kids used them to ride along the pnuemo lines like Clayton had said. It was a grey, sleek device and at the end it had three hooks in a circle. They could rotate too if you pushed the button. Magnetised too if she recalled correctly.   
  
“Mister Reggie even managed to get me a discount!” He went on, spinning the hooks around in their rotating circle. “Do you wanna see?”  
  
“Later søntos…” She smiled softly, brushing his wind swept hair back. “Later. I’m gonna take a look at it at home… make it even better,” _and safer_ , she added in the privacy of her own mind.   
  
She did not trust anything that came out of Fontaine Futuristics. It may look all fancy and clean, but the engineering was awful. Case and point; the private bathyspheres. Co2 poisoning, spontaneously bursting into flames, others you had to wear gas masks. Sure they were steeply discounted and a few that caught on fire were even sold with some winter blast Plasmid to stop the batteries from overheating. Either way you were dead.  
  
“Even better?” His eyes lit up excitedly and jumped up and down.   
  
“Want me to walk ya’ to the tram lines, Ms Em?” Reggie asked, looking amused at Clayton’s antics.   
  
“Sure, Reggie… why not?” She smiled at him. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to speak to you, you’ve been awful busy recently.”   
  
“Heh, happens when ya’ Mister Fontaine’s right hand,” he shrugged a little and directed them towards the exit.   
  
Shops were closed up and Clayton pointed excitedly at the book shop and the huge advertisement of the Fontaine Press book. She wasn’t too keen on the title and also wasn’t entirely sure what it would be about. A self help book of some kind? Or Fontaine’s memoirs?   
  
She snorted at the thought. How would a book like that start? _‘Yes and I then did this particular action and released this product to once again piss off Andrew Ryan.’_ As far as she could see that’s what he’d done. That’s what he’d done the moment he’d came to Rapture. Beating and besting Andrew Ryan at his own game had appeared to be Fontaine’s goal throughout the whole thing.   
  
Yeah, she could see the book starting like that, but that then rose the question of… how’s it going to end?  
  
Emilie frowned a little, casting a glance at Reggie before looking down at her son, who was holding her hand but he was focussed on the Air Grabber he’d bought. She smiled down at him, but the question still rang through her head. How was it going to end? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but Emilie had a feeling Andrew Ryan was loosing his patience.   
  
After Sofia Lamb took over Persephone… things seemed different. Yes, that part of Rapture was cut off from the public, but… it felt like there’d been a ripple effect. People started to realise that Andrew Ryan didn’t have as much power as he originally started with. Fontaine had made his move with the Poor Houses and Orphanages. He’d won the poorer folk over with his charity scheme. She was pretty certain that Frank Fontaine had Rapture in his pocket, but Andrew Ryan wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat yet.   
  
_Only a matter of time,_ she thought, _there’s not much left that’s in Andrew Ryan’s name that Frank doesn’t have a finger in. Ryan’s already lost the people._  
  
They stopped at the Tram line that linked the three buildings that made up Fontaine’s Department store. The tram slowly pulled into the station and Clayton jumped inside, turning and waving to Reggie. The bruiser smiled and waved back at the kid.   
  
“You take care kid,” he offered a soft smile. “You’re a little survivor, just like ol’ Frankie.”  
  
“Frankie?” Em rose an eyebrow looking amused. “You’re kidding me. That’s what Fontaine used to go by? Frankie?”   
  
“When he was a little’n,” Reggie smiled fondly. “He’s the boss now so… not really ‘Frankie’ anymore but..”   
  
“You still see him like that,” Em finished for him and he nodded once.   
  
“Clayton looks awful lot like ‘em,” he pointed to the kid who seemed thrilled at the idea. “How I know he’s gonna be just fine.”  
  
“Jesus, Reggie, ya’ acting like you’re never gonna see us again,” Em laughed. “We’ll see ya’ next year, yeah? Dawn of a new day and all that.”  
  
Reggie smiled at her. It almost looked sad and he placed a hand on her shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sure, Ms Em,” he nodded. “Yeah… yeah you’ll see me. Just… just remember though, aim before you shoot and steady ya arm.”   
  
“I remember,” she patted his arm. “See ya in the new year, Reggie,” Em said as she got inside the tram, pulling the leaver that made the tram door shot and begin to move the tram into the air lock.   
  
“See ya round, Ms Em,” Reggie nodded, tipping an imaginary hat.

* * *

  
Limey walked through the shut Manta Ray Lounge, walking over to the open hole in the wall that was usually hidden by a wall and a bar top with three bottles. Now, the wall was down and Fontaine’s panic room was on show for all to see.   
  
She wandered inside and found him sitting at his table taking the last little remnants of his makeup off his face.   
  
The panic room was filled with disguises and costumes. A few wigs here and there, as well as several pairs of glasses. The table top was neatly arranged with an enhanced cosmetics set and several jars of make up, material that was high grade stage quality. Fontaine didn’t settle for less, even topside he always got the best stuff to use for his disguises. It had always impressed Limey how good he was, not just at acting put putting together the whole look. Costume, make up, voice, he even changed how he held himself. Give himself a few nervous ticks that he’d teach himself and learn meticulous until it became second nature and then he’d take the time to unlearn them.   
  
His skill with makeup was also an impressive feat. He could apply make up to look like scars, old, new, fresh, it didn’t matter. He could even make it look like he’d been recently hurt. Bruises? No problem those were sometimes easier than all the rest. He even had a box of glass lenses with different eye colours.   
  
Frank, at the end of the day, was an actor and a very good one. He put some of the Hollywood actors to shame. She’d seen it enough times, one moment she was standing in a room with the man she knew, the next moment she had a complete stranger standing in front of her.  
  
There were moments when she felt like all his talent he wasted. He could’ve been a star on the stage or hell in the movies, but she supposed life doesn’t work like that. Fontaine had made his choice a long time ago and that choice was to become a conman and use these skills that he’d picked up god knows where. She was certain it was when he worked back stage and that actress had been kind to him, but he was never clear. He didn’t speak about it, so even to this day she didn’t know.   
  
He glanced up at her in the mirror and grinned. “Handed out the first pamphlets today,” he said proudly. “Gettin’ the suckers hooked already. They’re just eatin’ it up, Limes. Those idiots are so desperate they’re clingin’ to anything,” he turned in his seat so he could look at her better. “I do love it when the suckers are desperate, sure makes my life easier and those saps are desperate for a hero to save ‘em,” he placed a hand on his chest, his whole demeanour changed in an instant and he even held a honest and kind hearted expression on his face. “And who am I to abandon them like the ruddy tyrant, Andrew Ryan?” He spoke, voice now a thick Irish accent. “You never leave ya’ brothers and sisters in the dirt like that. Andrew Ryan left us all to fend for ourselves, even when he knew outright that some of us would have nowhere to go. He damned us all. He’s livin’ like a king while we-.”  
  
“Yes it’s all very good, Francis,” she interrupted him, crossing her arms and looking irritated. “You don’t need to go preaching to me. I’m not the one you’re trying to convince, remember?”  
  
Fontaine frowned at her, he looked vaguely annoyed to be interrupted mid character. “The hells wrong with you? Thought you’d be pleased I was at least practicin’?” He snapped, now back in the New York bronx he’d grown up with. “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or somethin’?”  
  
“You said we’d leave when it became too much,” she argued, gesturing around them. “This doesn’t feel too much to you?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Francis you are aiming to create a war!”   
  
“Ryan’s forced my hand!” He argued. “He wouldn’t let me have Rapture my way, so I’m gonna have to take it his way. You ain’t backing out on me are ya’ Limes?”   
  
“And if I was?” She challenged glaring at him. “Are you going to kill me Francis? Would you kill me if I backed out?”   
  
He glared at her, before turning back to the mirror and began to remove his makeup again. “Well you ain’t backing out so it don’t matter does it?”  
  
“That wasn’t the answer to my question.”  
  
“What you want me ta say, Limey?!” He snapped back at her. “You ain’t backing out. I know you ain’t. I-,” he stopped and looked back at her, at the way she had her arms wrapped around her and her tight lipped frown. It suddenly dawned on him. “You’re scared.”   
  
“Of course I’m scared!” She snapped. “We’ve never done something this big before and… and I don’t know what’s going to happen.”  
  
“Limey… Katherine,” Frank got up and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey old girl, it’s gonna be fine. I told you, got all the kinks worked out,” he grinned and winked at her. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna go wrong. Reggie knows the plan, got ya both a safe place ta’ lay low for a while and once ‘Atlas’ is good and ready you both come and join me. It’s perfect. He squeezed her shoulder. “Nothin’s gonna go wrong. Hey? Look at me,” she glanced up at him and he offered her a comforting smile. She wasn’t too sure if it was a genuine one or not. “Everythin’s gonna be fine. I promise.”   
  
She sighed and took a step away from him. “That is a promise you cannot make or keep. We’re dealing with variables out of our hands, Francis. Yes we can preempt how Ryan is going to act but we do not know for sure.”   
  
Frank sighed and ran a hand over his head. His own little tell, despite working so hard not to have any at all. He was nervous like she was, he was just dealing with it better. Hell, Limey imagined they were all nervous. They’d never tried something this big before, it was a leap and so much could go wrong and after what Reginald had told her a few months ago…   
  
“Francis?”  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
She closed her eyes, squeezing her elbows a moment. She’d promised Reginald she wouldn’t say anything. She’d promised but she didn’t know how she could willingly sit by and let him walk to his death. Frank would… not react well to it. He’d never reacted well to loss. Granted, he hadn’t lost many people that actually meant something to him, but if his reaction regarding the actresses death was anything to go by…. Well, murder was not a healthy reaction to loss, let’s put it that way.   
  
“Limey, what is it?”  
  
“Nothing,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “I’m just… very tired and nervous. That’s all. There’s so much that could go wrong.”  
  
“Nothing’s gonna go wrong,” he assured her. She wanted to laugh, because if only he knew. “Nothing’s gonna go wrong. We’ve had to deal with riskier operations than this. We’re gonna be fine,” he smiled at her. “You’ll see. Ya’ did all this frettin’ for nothing. We’ll be back topside, kicking back and drinking martinis on a beach while we have the rest of the world in our pocket.”   
  
“We… would go back to the surface?” She looked hopeful for a moment. Maybe she would get a chance to take him to London and see the sights. “I could finally show you London…”   
  
Frank looked surprised, but he nodded. “Of course. I’m havin’ Suchong and Tenenbaum work on making the Plasmids… well, safe. None of the side effects,” he grinned at her. “ADAM is the ultimate score, Limes. No more grifts, no more scams! We’ll be living like kings and queens, go wherever we want! Go to London,” he gestured to her. “I’m thinking of retiring to a nice little beach, what ya’ think?”  
  
It sounded like a dream. It sounded impossible. Then again, they were in a city at the bottom of the ocean and she’d believed that would be impossible at one point in her life. They’d come this far, they’d make it and maybe Reggie would make the right choice and walk away from that shootout. Maybe he would. Even if he didn’t… she’d take care of everything like she always did. Reggie was right after all, Frank was their kid. You did anything for your kid and after Reggie had told her as such, she’d suddenly realised that he was right. She’d do anything for the man before her, because he was her kid.   
  
Smirking at him, with added confidence and now an attitude to through with their plan, she nodded to him once. It was going to work. She didn’t know why she’d been so worried. Frank hadn’t failed them before, she doubted he’d start to fail now.  
  
“I think a beach sounds lovely,” she responded. “I would say I’d get a tan but us Brits tend to just burn…”   
  
“Poms,” he winked at her, grinning, reminding her very much of the boy he’d once been.   
  
She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, yes, whatever you say bronx.”  
  
“Ah, there’s the Limey I know and tolerate.”   
  
“You’re a little bastard sometimes you know that?”  
  
“But I wear it so well.”  
  
“Hm. Debatable,” she glanced at him and her face returned to its usual flat look. “So. You sent out the pamphlets?”   
  
“Ate ‘em up like it was their last meal,” he grinned. “Did a bit of preachin’ too I might add. The suckers fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Just you wait, we’ll have Rapture in the palm of our hand by the end of next year,” he said proudly. “And the best of it is… Rapture’s gonna help me do it. Andrew Ryan won’t even know what hit him.”   
  
No she supposed Andrew Ryan wouldn’t. He’d think he got rid of him, when in actual fact he was right there all along. He even had a back up plan in case things went wrong.   
  
“Limey?”   
  
“Yes, Francis?”   
  
He’d returned to his desk, wiping away the last little bits of makeup again. He turned to her slightly, but not the whole way.  
  
“You know I’d never kill ya’. Even if you backed out… cause I know you’d never tell anyone. Fam- er, we… we don’t do that,” he tapped nervously at the table. “We don’t do that to each other.”  
  
“Yes, Francis,” she smiled softly at the back of his head. “You’re right. Family never sells each other out.”   
  
He’d tensed a little at the dreaded ‘F’ word, the thing that he despised or didn’t take to heart all too much. Something that he laughed at regularly. The tenseness left his shoulders however and he nodded his head once, not looking at her.  
  
“Yeah… f- family doesn’t do that…” he laughed shakily, looking down at the table top. “Since we are… family, you ever gonna tell me where ya hide the ice?”   
  
She smiled coyly. “Why… with the ice of course.”   
  
“What?” He turned to her looking confused.   
  
“Never mind,” she shook her head, still looking amused. “You’ll work it out. You’re a smart one… even if you do rush into things a little too hasty at times,” she said. “Though I do have to commend you, Francis.. this corporate takeover idea is one of the best you’ve ever had. I’m quite proud.”   
  
Frank grinned at her. “It is isn’t it? Ryan’ll play right into our hands and he won’t even realise he’s done it. Ego is the destruction of most great men after all.”  
  
“Well said.”

* * *

  
“Has the evidence come up yet?”  
  
“Just about,” Sullivan replied, flicking through his notebook. “It’s only a matter of time now before we deal with Fontaine.”   
  
“What about the splicers?” Anna Culpepper asked, smoking a cigarette. “They’re becoming more wild by the day. Perhaps we could use something to advise people on how much ADAM to take? Almost like a radio cereal or something?”   
  
There were a few murmers of agreement around the rest of the council. Kyburz was sat at the end of the table listening miserably. It was New Years eve and he was stuck in this place when he could be out or hell, seeing Em. He could be doing any of those things. He could even have been admitting his feelings to her and getting the happy ending he wanted or the start of it, but instead he was here. Listening to the many decisions and ideas of the bunch of idiots that consisted of the council.   
  
Bill, Sullivan, Anna, Kinkaide, Rizzo and of course Ryan.   
  
Most of these meetings had been like this. Bloody pointless and going round and round in circles and now Andrew Ryan was on about adding to the plasmid business himself. Sure, he’d heard the discussion last time about Ryan making plasmids that were safe to use, but that hadn’t gone down very well. He hadn’t seen any such plasmids on sale so presumably they hadn’t been able to make any.   
  
Not just the plasmids, but also the flame throwers and chemical throwers that Ryan had started to sell. There were a lot of those around Rapture. A lot of the chemical throwers had been purchased by workers of Hephestus because they worked with chemicals nearly all the time. They also had an endless supply of the damn things.  
  
He glanced down at his coffee cup, something he wished was filled with alcohol rather than coffee. He felt like he could sorely need a drink right now. He felt like he needed a drink near enough every day. Every hour.   
  
“If we deal with Fontaine,” Ryan spoke. “Then it should solve the problem. If he is no longer selling such plasmids… how are we looking on arresting him?”  
  
“We’ve got plenty of evidence to raid him, Mister Ryan,” Sullivan shrugged. “I can set up for next year. As soon as you like.”  
  
“Excellent.”  
  
“But what about plasmids?” Anna pressed again. The young British artist was not giving it up it would seem. “They’re dangerous. We should try to teach people not to over indulge.”   
  
Kyburz wanted to laugh. The woman obviously didn’t deal with junkies very often, did she? You couldn’t tell an addict to slow down, it was something that didn’t compute in their minds. They just wanted more and they would get more. They’d keep taking until they got their fix, but the problem was, they’d keep wanting more and more. The bigger the quantities the more dangerous and mutated these spliced up men and women were.   
  
Pablo had tried to slow down, Kyburz had seen it, but he’d failed. Now he was splicing up near enough every hour. He could barely recognise him anymore. His face was a mess. The only good thing was it seemed that his mind was still reasonably intact, for the most part. He still got freaked out by the ghosts. Kyburz didn’t have an explanation for those, he couldn’t work out what they were and just where they came from.  
  
“Kyburz?” Bill glanced at him and frowned slightly. “Are you okay? Ya’ been a little quiet mate.”   
  
Kyburz blinked at him and shrugged. “Just fine. I just don’t think you understand how bloody addictive these plasmids are,” he snapped, looking irritated. “All around me, men and women are splicing up daily,” he glared at Anna. “Ya’ think some bloody jingle is gonna stop any of them?”   
  
Anna frowned. “Well, it might help.”   
  
Kyburz shook his head. “You don’t get it. You haven’t seen it. Bill, Sullivan, me? We see it. Every day we see some loony toons splice up and murder someone just for the hell of it!” He gripped his coffee cup tightly in his hand. “I work in Hephestus and sure it’s never been a safe job, but I only had to worry about bolts and screws occasionally falling on my head, but now? Now, I gotta worry about bloody fire balls or you know? _People!_ ” He glared at the artist angrily. “You ever had a person fall and land directly in front of you after being tossed from the highest point by a splicer? I bet you haven’t.”   
  
“Take it easy, Kyburz,” Bill placed a hand on his shoulder, sighing slightly. “But ya know, he’s right,” he looked to Ryan then, almost pleading with him. “The plasmids have to go, guv’. I know we don’t do that sort of thing. I know we don’t ban products but people are getting hurt. Killed,” he gestured at the council. “Look at how many of us are left now? We started out with twenty council members and now there’s just us. Either due to the others being murdered or splicing up.”  
  
“We shall not ban plasmids, Bill,” Ryan said, looking vaguely annoyed. “That is not what Rapture is about. Free markets and free enterprises and free men. That is the very core foundations that Rapture was built on,” he glared into his own coffee cup a moment. “It’s Fontaine that is a threat to that. He means to undermine all we have created and made through his own self interest. He risks us all.”  
  
“Begging ya pardon, Mister Ryan,” Kyburz mumbled. “But isn’t Mister Fontaine just following your beliefs? Free markets and all that?”   
  
Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. “Fontaine is a criminal. You know this as well as anyone around this table. He’s been a parasite from the start. It just took time for him to show his true colours. We deal with him, Rapture will be saved.”  
  
“And the plasmids?” Sullivan asked. “Because we got all sorts now. Insect Swarm, Enrage, Electro bolt. The splicers are using them to kill people and cause trouble.”  
  
“Growing pains,” Ryan waved him off. “This is all it is. The plasmids and the splicers are merely growing pains. Every great civilisation must go through this. I do not know or recall of one that doesn’t. There has been side effects, but we do not shrink away from them. That is not what the free market is, it doesn’t hide away at the very first sign of trouble, the market is patient and we must be too.”   
  
Kyburz stared at him like he was insane. Did Ryan not understand what was happening out there or was he just not able to admit it. Rapture was falling apart at the seems, sure a lot of folks had stopped splicing so much now they knew the side effects and a few hadn’t even began to splice in the first place. As the side effects became more and more clear, people became less and less keen on such things.   
  
Still didn’t make living in Rapture any easier because there were the crazy splicers that still hadn’t been caught wondering around. Not to mention there were some parts of Rapture that many people had outright stopped going to, mostly because it belonged to the splicers now. Arcadia was one such place. A few sane individuals still wondered around and worked there, but it was mostly filled with splicers on the teleport plasmid. Apparently they’d formed their own little cult down there from the rumours Kyburz had heard.   
  
“Mister Ryan is correct,” Kinkaid spoke up. “Splicers are mad dogs, but with a little guidance we will have control of such wild dogs.”  
  
“Not control,” Ryan said. “We do not control or command- no, Rapture is built on free will. It is the cornerstone of this city. Suggestions and guidance is what we shall give to them, if they wish to ignore it… that is their choice.”   
  
“And if it means that others should die because of their choice?” Kyburz asked, looking annoyed. “Forgive me Mister Ryan, but I feel like you need to take a walk around Rapture. Hephestus is a minefield,” he rubbed at his eyes. “People are loosing hope. They’re loosing our trust. We can’t afford to loose the people, Mister Ryan. We can’t,” he looked down at his coffee, staring at the warn out reflection staring back at him. “People used to call Hephestus the heart of Rapture, Mister Ryan… do you know what they call it now?” He looked up at him tiredly. “They call it Rapture’s life support. _Life support_. Like Rapture’s dying and no longer has a heart to keep it going. People are loosing faith in us, Mister Ryan.”  
  
Ryan looked thoughtful for a moment. “If people are killed… that is life,” he shrugged a little. “We do not control people, Kyburz. You are right… from what I’ve heard… people are loosing trust. It’s Fontaine,” he snarled the name out. “With his charity scams.”   
  
“He’s set up another one,” Kinkaid added. “It makes you wonder what he’s up to.”  
  
“He’s up to undermining me!” Ryan snapped. “First it was plasmids and now it is these poor houses. He’d allowing the parasites to thrive in our city. We shall not tolerate such actions. If Fontaine goes, everything will be different. We can save Rapture,” he looked to Kyburz. “And Hephestus will once again become the heart of the city.”  
  
“If we do decide to handle Fontaine, Guv,” Bill spoke. “And I fully believe we should, we need to do it carefully. The whole of Rapture will be watching. When we arrest Fontaine we have to make it clear that we won’t touch his business interests. We sit on the council because these poor sods trust us, not because god gave us a chair.”   
  
“God has nothing to do with it,” Ryan replied sharply. “We sit here because we all have the knowledge and drive to keep Rapture running smoothly. While I admit, my friends, that these past few years have been tough… it is, as I stated before, merely growing pains. Fontaine is the virus and once we wipe him out, the city will be allowed to grow freely.”   
  
“So…” Sullivan shuffled a little in his seat looking uncomfortable. “We going to arrest Fontaine then?”   
  
Ryan sat up a little straighter in his seat, looking around at the everyone on the table. They’d put it to a vote, they always did and Kyburz already knew what he’d be voting for.   
  
Fontaine. Frank bloody Fontaine had be the bane of Kyburz’s life the moment he’d stepped into it. Hell, he hadn’t even stepped into his life, he’d stepped into Em’s and completely ruined it. Wrecked it. Fontaine was the cause of all of Rapture’s problems, this Kyburz agreed with. It was him who started to sell the plasmids in the first place and the bastard probably already knew about the side effects. He was destroying the city and the people with his greed. He was tearing people apart, forcing workers to pick sides. It was all his fault.   
  
“We shall put it to a vote,” Ryan said, standing from his seat. “All those who believe that Frank Fontaine is guilty and should be dealt? You have seen the evidence my friends… it’s around us nearly every day. So, all those who agree we should deal with Fontaine, raise your hands.”   
  
Kyburz’s hand had shot up the quickest, Sullivan and Bill’s next. Kinkaid had soon followed, only Rizzo and Anna looked unsure, but in the end they rose their hands too. Kyburz had a feeling that was more down to peer pressure, but he also understood their hesitance. They didn’t trust Ryan and no neither did Kyburz, but he trusted Ryan a hell of a lot more than he trusted Fontaine.   
  
Ryan nodded once. “It’s settled then. Chief Sullivan shall lead a raid to arrest Fontaine and we shall try him in a fair court for his crimes. He’ll be convicted and hung, and then Raptures problems…” Ryan smiled. “They will be solved.”

* * *

  
_Andrew Ryan,_   
  
_The Great Chain Moves Slowly:_   
  
_Is there blood in the streets? Of course. Have some chosen to destroy themselves with careless splicing? Undeniable. But I will make no proclamations, I will dictate no laws. The Great Chain moves slowly, but with wisdom. It is our impatience that invites in the Parasite or big government. And once you’ve invited it in, it will never stop feeing on the body of the city._


	39. Dawn of a New Day

_Reggie,_   
  
_The con of a life time:_   
  
_Well today’s the big day. Gotta make it look like a real spectacle. Heh, the boss looks real good, got that whole act down perfect, like always. Now I just gotta play my part and we’re all ready and set to take over Rapture. Well… the boss is… I won’t be.. well, that’s what family does ain’t it?_   
  
_Still, I can just imagine the look on Ryan’s face when he realises he’s been had!_

* * *

  
O’Riley shouldn’t of come into work today.  
  
All around him bullets rained, he fired back as ordered by Fontaine. Splicers were left and right, firing at Ryan’s men. They’d come down to arrest Fontaine, but the stupid bastard wasn’t going down without a fight. Fair enough if he wanted to go down in a hail of bullets, but that was not how O’Riley wanted to die. He’d survived the war, he didn’t come down to Rapture to get caught out fighting another man’s argument.  
  
Fontaine had the splicers under his control by holding the promise of ADAM over their heads. They were loyal to him. Loyal as far as their addictions would allow and it was terrifying to watch them work. The splicers tore into people almost effortlessly, slicing with their fishing hooks or setting some of Ryan’s constables on fire.  
  
He ducked under the pier for a moment to reload his gun and then he heard something he wasn’t expecting. Fontaine. The son of a bitch had actually come out to join them in this fire fight. That was a surprise. O’Riley had expected the man to be running half way across Rapture by now. He wasn’t entirely sure where he’d run to, but he hadn’t struck O’Riley as the kind of man that was brave. Certainly not brave enough to face this fire fight head on.  
  
An explosion sounded above him and he tensed a moment, gripping tightly at his gun, lips pulled back in a snarl. He almost felt like he was back topside fighting in the war. Another explosion sounded and O’Riley swore he felt his scars on his face burning again. A shower of bullets just missed him through the pier and his shoulder throbbed from the memory of the bullet that tore through his flesh. He could feel himself locking up, starting to panic and his breath came out in short sharp bursts.  
  
He was going to die here. He was certain of it. O’Riley was going to die for a man he held not loyalty to except for the fact that Fontaine put the fear of god into people. He had to go out. He had to get up and get back out there, no way Fontaine would let him down easy if he did survive this fire fight.  
  
Stealing himself, he climbed back to the pier again, spotting Fontaine yelling at the other men, yelling Ryan’s men angrily. He wasn’t going down. This was his stuff and whilst yes it was, O’Riley couldn’t say he shot with complete accuracy. He wanted Fontaine gone, he was pretty certain everyone did. He was awful man who’d got them all mixed up in this mess and forced them to stay in it.  
  
Bullets rained all around him, explosions went off and each time they did, O’Riley would flinch. He’d feel the searing pain running up his face again as his muscles remembered the excoriating pain of his face nearly being blown off. He’d seen a flicker of movement creeping around the back towards Fontaine, but disregarded it. Those splicers were creepy bastards, it was probably one of them.  
  
The next minute, O’Riley heard a scream and a loud shotgun blast, followed by a victorious cry.  
  
“I done it! I got Frank Fontaine!”  
  
Sure enough, when O’Riley stared down into the water there was Frank Fontaine, nearly cut in half because of that damn shotgun blast. He couldn’t believe it. The bastard was actually dead.  
  
All around them, splicers screeched in anger and started to tear into the few remaining of Ryan’s men, some of them where even people O’Riley recognised, one was the owner of the Pub he frequented. Safe to say he wouldn’t be able to go there again.  
  
O’Riley turned to the other men who looked so confused and weren’t entirely sure what to do. What did they do now? Fontaine was dead. Their leader was dead.  
  
Blinking through the smoke and spray of water that flew up into the air from each gun shot, O’Riley turned to the rest of the men. He had to shout over the noise of the continuous gunfire. Ryan’s men were retreating, but who’s to say there wouldn’t be more of them coming back. Reinforcements.  
  
“Come on!” He yelled at the them, backing up towards the back entrance of Port Neptune. “Come on, we gotta go!”  
  
“What?” One of the young lads asked, staring at him with wide frightened eyes. Peach was nodding in agreement with O’Riley over the lads shoulder, calling to the others and beckoning them away.  
  
“We gotta go!” O’Riley said to the lad. “We gotta go now!”  
  
“But Fontaine-!”  
  
“Fontaine’s dead!” He pointed at the body floating in the winter. “You want to be loyal to a dead body be my guest!”  
  
He was already running towards the exit, with a few of the other men and then the ones that had survived came sprinting after him. Even the lad finally got his legs in gear and started to run. They had to jump over dead bodies, both of splicers and some of their own men. O’Riley even slipped in the blood a few times, some of the others doing the same.  
  
They ran through towards the two bathyspheres at the back entrance, quickly piling in as many they could in the two spheres. O’Riley sat down heavily on a seat, hand still white knuckled around his gun. He was struggling to get his breathing under control and he heard the men around him panicking. They were frightened, panicked and afraid, then the young lad piped up.  
  
“We- We could go to Hestia Chambers… we could.. we could join Atlas!”  
  
A few heads perked up at that. O’Riley’s included.  
  
Atlas. The name had been going around for a bit in the poorer parts of Rapture. Mostly pamphlets and a small group of people who said they answered to a man named Atlas. This had been going on for a while now. It had started New Years eve of 1957 and had carried on through this year of 1958. It also seemed to be gaining speed and this Atlas character had a heap of followers now. His group was steadily getting more too.  
  
O’Riley wondered who this Atlas was. Where had he come from? He’d seemed to have just popped out of nowhere, but he didn’t go out much so it wouldn’t be surprising if he didn’t know who he was. Though, it seemed, from what he’d heard, no one knew who he was.  
  
“Atlas?” Peach asked looking skeptical. “He’s… he’s real?”  
  
“Yeah! I’ve seen him!” The young lad grinned. “He’s taking care of us! Of the poorer folk! Says he’s gonna make everything better, that we need to work together to defeat tyrants like Andrew Ryan.”  
  
“He sounds like another Sofia Lamb,” O’Riley mumbled, voice horse and shaky.  
  
The lad shook his head in disagreement. “No, no he’s not! Atlas is like us. He’s a working man,” he grinned. “He helped me get food for my family- hell, he gave me the food for free! He’s real! We should join him.”  
  
“How long has this been going on?” One of the other men asked.  
  
“Since last year, late last year,” the lad explained. “It started off with pamphlets, ya know? Advertising and then it grew to posters, then Atlas started making appearances last month. He’s been talking to everyone around Hestia. There’s a bunch of folk following him, they’ve made Hestia Chambers their.. um, base, I guess. But, he cares. He honestly cares and he’s just like us!”  
  
Peach sighed and nodded his head. “Alright..” He mumbled. “Not like we’s got a choice is it?”  
  
There were a few murmurs of agreement and O’Riley sighed, nodding his head, albeit reluctantly.  
  
Yep. He really shouldn’t of come into work today.

* * *

  
“Where’s Fontaine?” Em asked, as she walked over to Kelly’s desk, Clayton was sat at her desk drawing, Limey was also there, picking up some files.  
  
Emilie looked the older woman over almost critically. Limey hadn’t spoken a word this morning, her hands even shook as she picked up the files. If anything, she looked like a woman who was very close to breaking down and crying. Her eyes were glassy and she was swallowing a lot. Like she was trying to force the tears to stay down. Em was half tempted to ask what was wrong, but she doubted she’d get an answer. Limey kept things to herself most of the time.  
  
Kelly shrugged a little. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him, haven’t seen Reggie either which is… odd,” she looked to Limey seeming to be just as hesitant to ask as Em did. “Limey, do you know where they are?”  
  
Limey didn’t say anything, just looked up at them, a single tear running down her face.  
  
“Miss Limey!” Clayton cried, looking upset. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Before Limey could answer, they heard the sound of people walking up the stairs and what a surprise it was when Andrew Ryan came round the corner. Behind him stood Karlosky, Sullivan and Bill, though Bill and Sullivan looked shaken. Hell, Sullivan looked injured, but Ryan? Andrew Ryan looked the most pleased she’d ever seen.  
  
He smiled at them and it was a cruel smile. A smug smile that spoke volumes of what was about to happen. He looked them all up and down, glared at Emilie in particular, probably still salty about the Ryan’s Gate plans not being in his possession. Not like he was ever going to get them, she’d burned them after all. Call her petty, but that moment had felt particularly good.  
  
“You have no need to be here anymore,” Ryan spoke. “I’m very sorry to have to inform you all of this,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “But Frank Fontaine is dead.”  
  
Silence filled the room. Emilie blinked a few times in confusion. Dead? Frank Fontaine… was dead? He couldn’t be… he couldn’t be dead… he…  
  
“Dead?” She echoed, staring at him.  
  
“Yes,” Ryan replied, pocketing his hands as he looked her up and down. “I sent some of my finest to arrest him and he decided to take the cowards way out in a hail of bullets.”  
  
Everyone jumped when Limey dropped the files she had been holding. They scattered across the floor, blowing a little in the faint breeze from the air conditioning, but it was the look on her face that drew their attention. She looked furious. Outraged and the tears were streaming freely down her face this time, she didn’t bother to try and hold them back.  
  
“A coward?!” She spat, glaring at him. “Oh yes! He was a coward- tell me, Mister Ryan, were you there with your men in that fire fight or were you _bravely_ giving orders behind a desk!”  
  
Sullivan and Bill visibly winced, while Emilie stared at Limey with wide eyes. She’d never seen the woman fly off the handle so violently. Limey was always quiet with sharp words. She never shouted or yelled, though it seemed even when she did, she did not loose her wit.  
  
Clayton shot out of his seat and went running round to charge at Ryan, but Em caught his arm and held him back. Her little boy was furious. Tears were running down his face and he yelled, screaming and kicking at Ryan. Clayton was protective of his loved ones, always had been. It was a trait he’d gotten from her and he followed her example. If someone like Kyburz had died like this and she had someone tell her so carelessly, she’d act very much the same way.  
  
“You’re a monster!” Clayton yelled. “You’re a coward, Ryan! You’re _the_ coward!”  
  
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Interesting observation, Master Lokken. Fontaine was not willing to stand trial, he escaped justice, deciding to go out in gunfire. He took many an innocent man with him. We lost a lot of our constables in that fire fight.”  
  
“Oh and I’m sure you shed a tear for every single one,” Limey snarled. “The boy is right, Ryan. You’re the coward. You couldn’t stand the idea of Fontaine beating you.”  
  
“ _I_ arranged for his _arrest_ ,” Ryan countered.  
  
“Yes, but let’s not kid ourselves, you’re not that upset with the outcome.”  
  
Andrew Ryan smirked a little. “He chose his own execution, rather than face justice in a fair trial.”  
  
Em picked Clayton up to stop her son from charging at Ryan. She was loosing her grip on him because he was constantly twisting and turning. Kicking and swinging his fist at the man. Now, he clung to her tightly and buried his head in her neck, sobbing loudly. Ryan may have only taken out his competition, but for Clayton, he’d just taken out the boys father. She never understood their relationship and now she doubted she never would, but one thing she was certain of was her little boys love for Fontaine. He’d looked up to that man like a son would a father. She hadn’t liked it, but there was very little she could do about it.  
  
“Fair trial?” Limey spat incredulously. “Oh yes, I’m sure it would’ve been a fair trial, with his political advisory being judge, jury and executioner.”  
  
“There would’ve been witnesses,” Ryan argued. “Members of a jury, the whole council would’ve been present in deciding Fontaine’s fate, had the man allowed it.”  
  
Limey stalked up to him, getting in his face and Karlosky looked nervous, shuffling his gun a little. “Judge, jury and executioner,” the woman snarled in Ryan’s face. “You’re a coward, Ryan. Why, you ran away down here in the first place because you couldn’t handle big governments, though I’ll admit you are a smart coward. You tricked all of us into coming down with you. I suppose it would get lonely down here without some people’s lives to govern.”  
  
With that, Limey turned on her heel, storming towards her desk. No doubt she was picking up her things.  
  
Emilie was still in a state of shock. She couldn’t believe that Fontaine was dead. He was dead and he wasn’t coming back. Her eyes flickered to Ryan and he opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hand up stopping him.  
  
“Save it,” she snarled, pushing past them, glaring at Bill a little as she went. “Pablo was right about you,” Emilie said angrily. “Whipped like a true lap dog!”  
  
Bill opened and closed his mouth to protest, but she was already gone, walking towards her office. Her new office that she’d loved and been so happy with. The office that she was now going to loose, just when things had started to look up. She was going to loose her knew home too, not unless she could find work and quickly. She’d have to do that tomorrow, tonight Clayton would need all the comfort she could give him. She knew what it was like to loose a father. She’d lost her own in the raids over England after all, the only thankful thing was Clayton hadn’t been there to witness Fontaine’s death.  
  
Her son had been saved of that.  
  
When she walked to the exit, she found Limey already there, box in hand with a few of her belongings, what she hadn’t expected was Kelly.  
  
Her best friend had a box filled with her items and her bag on her shoulder. Em was having to balance her things and Clayton, who was hugging her tightly. He hadn’t stopped crying yet.  
  
“Kelly?”  
  
“He… he fired me…”  
  
“Fired you?” Em blinked. “He can’t fire you.”  
  
“Yes he can,” she replied, eyes wide. “Ryan’s taking over the building.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“He’s… he’s condemning this one and taking over the second facility in Point Prometheus…” Kelly explained. “All the workers here are being let go. You’d be out of a job regardless of you quitting…” she trialed off, frowning a little. “Why did you do that?”  
  
Emilie shrugged. “It just seemed the right thing to do,” she nodded at Clayton and Kelly nodded back in understanding. “Besides, the ‘right thing’ is in plenty short supply these days. Couldn’t hurt… right?”  
  
The three women stepped onto the train at the Atlantic Express, taking a seat, with their boxes at their feet. Kelly quickly changed her mind and instead held it in her arms. She seemed just as shaken as Em was. Limey was stone faced as usual, but tears came streaming down her face. Hopefully Reggie would be able to comfort her… unless Reggie was with Fontaine at the shoot out and then… oh god…  
  
“I can’t believe he’s dead…” Kelly whispered, hugging the box to her closely. “Like… I can’t believe it. I’m just.. stunned! I thought…” she looked up at Em with wide eyes. “I thought he was going to be around forever…”  
  
“Same…” Em agreed, nodding her head. “I thought that… I thought that Fontaine would end up running this place-.”  
  
“He would’ve done,” Limey snapped. “If Andrew Ryan hadn’t gone against his own rules,” she sat on the train straight backed, watching as other workers slowly filled the train, all carrying boxes or bags with their belongings in. “He’s done a corporate take over,” she said loudly.  
  
The workers stared at her, the doors of the train slowly closed and it pulled away from the station. Em looked out, frowning when she saw all the constables that belonged for Ryan.  
  
Limey was right, he really was taking it over wasn’t he? Free market and free enterprises meant little to nothing to Andrew Ryan. He just wanted to win, that was all that mattered to him. He didn’t care that he’d put all these people out of a job. He didn’t care that some of them might never be able to work again and end up poor.  
  
Emilie was going to loose her new home. Clayton would loose his window, the thing he’d been so excited about. Where were they going to go? She didn’t want to move back to Pauper’s Drop. Just the very idea made her wince. From what she’d heard, a lot of people had boycotted the Drop, giving up and moving on. Most had gone to Hestia Chambers, but now that Fontaine was dead, what was going to happen to the Poor Houses, to the Orphanages? Where were all those people going to go?  
  
Would Ryan just leave them standing, but not take care of them? They’d rot. Or… maybe they wouldn’t? Most of the poor consisted of workers in metal and construction, maybe they could keep it going. There was the issue of getting materials however and unless they somehow stole them, there was no way they’d get their hands on such things.  
  
“Maybe there’s some sense in joining this… Atlas,” Limey suddenly said, after remaining quiet for a long time.  
  
Emilie frowned a little, she noticed that quite a few of the workers were all looking at Limey in interest, even Clayton was now staring at the older woman.  
  
“Who… who’s Atlas?” Her son asked, voice horse from crying. It made her wince a little, but she brushed through his hair and kissed the top of his forehead, gently rocking him.  
  
Limey shrugged a little. “I’m not sure. No one is, from what I’ve heard, but he’s helping the poor,” she went on. “From the rumours that have been able to circle up to myself.”  
  
“He’s helping them?” Someone asked.  
  
Limey nodded. “From what I’ve heard, yes. Though, they’re mostly rumours, but he’s planning on leading some sort of uprising against Ryan,” she shrugged a little once more, like it was no big thing. “They’ve been handing out pamphlets. I hear he’s in Hestia Chambers but moves around a lot. Helping people around Rapture.”  
  
“So he’s a freedom fighter, then?” Em rose an eyebrow and scoffed. “He sounds like Lamb, look what happened to her.”  
  
“Not like Lamb,” Limey argued. “Atlas is just an everyday man trying to make the world a better place. Well, trying to make Rapture a better place at least.”  
  
“I’ve heard about him,” Kelly said. “Seen some of his posters… he’s claiming to be fighting against Ryan and the injustice.”  
  
“So he should!” Someone at the back yelled. “Ryan said this place was going to be different, but look! He just kicked us all out of a job and took over the building!”  
  
“Yeah!” Another voice cried. “Ryan’s just as bad as the government we came down here to escape!”  
  
There were murmurs of agreement amongst the crowd and Emilie found herself nodding in agreement. Clayton was staring at Limey in awe. He seemed enraptured by the idea of a hero fighting for the people. Standing up to Ryan, getting revenge against the man, that in her son’s mind, had taken his father away from him and helping the poor pick themselves up.  
  
She understood. After leaving her poor world behind and going back, living a life comfortably, she couldn’t believe that people lived in those conditions. She couldn’t believe that she’d been living in those conditions. You never noticed it too much at the time, you complained, but you got on with it because there was nothing else to do. When she went back, however, doing the work on the poorhouses for Fontaine, she’d seen how people lived. How they had to share a room and sometimes a bed. How, five different families would fit, squished together in one room and share a kitchen and a bathroom.  
  
It was awful. The smell, the conditions, the chill of the ocean. There was heating, but not very good heating. She had to constantly fix it because Hestia ran on its own heat. Ryan was not going to allow any of the heat from Hephestus to the houses for the poor. The orphanages had gotten lucky.  
  
To put it simply, the poor were angry anyway and now that Ryan had murdered the only person who actual gave enough of a damn to help them, despite Emilie knowing it was purely for selfish reasons, they would be furious. When they heard about the corporate takeover, the whole of Rapture would be furious. That wasn’t what any of them had signed up for. Ryan was going against his own beliefs, the very thing he’d preached since the beginning, almost religiously. Ironic considering the man’s hatred of religion as a whole.  
  
There’d be riots. People would not stand for this, the poor especially. They’d be angry, chomping at the bit to get at Ryan and tear into him like a pack of hungry wolves. Their families were starving and had been relying on Fontaine to give them food and shelter. Hell, Fontaine had even given them medicine, things that Ryan would never have given them, because they couldn’t afford it. Ryan had forgotten to win the people over, to win all of the people over, so Fontaine just stepped in and won the people over himself. Emilie knew that it was completely politically motivated, but she doubted that really mattered when you and your family was starving. You’d be grateful to have the food in the first place and feel like you were in dept to whoever had helped you.  
  
“Ryan doesn’t care about free enterprise,” Limey said. “He never has. He just cares about power, he’s stolen it from all of us,” she went on, picking up her box as the Atlantic Express pulled into the final station. “Don’t you think it’s about time we stole it back?”  
  
There were murmurs of agreement, some even shouted and cheered. When they stepped off the train, almost like they’d been waiting for them, a group of people clearly from Hestia were handing out pamphlets. Wrapped around their arms were yellow cloths, a clear marker to show who they belonged with.  
  
Quite a few people took the pamphlets, while others stopped to talk to the people and find out more about this… Atlas. It was clear these people belonged to him.  
  
Clayton had taken a pamphlet from one of the people, holding tightly to Em’s hand while he read the words for her.  
  
“Atlas Cares,” he began. “Yes, someone cares! Atlas knows it feels as if no one in Rapture cares. Fight for the rights of the workingman,” her son read the tag line and looked up at her with big watery eyes. “Mama… Mama, someone cares!”  
  
“Yes, søntos… it looks like someone does,” she frowned a little. “The idiot’s going to put a target on his back now that Fontaine is…” she trailed off as her son began to hiccup and sob again. “Hey,” she said, picking him up and carrying him. “Why don’t you tell me more about Atlas, huh? What’s it say, søntos?”  
  
“I miss Mister Fontaine, Mama..” He whimpered burying his face in her neck. “I miss my papa!”  
  
“I know… I know søntos…” she said, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “I know… I… I miss him too… in my own way…gonna miss yelling at him,” she laughed a little, shaking her head. “But, listen,” Emilie said, brushing his hair back from his face as best she could. He looked back at her with wet eyes, while she wiped his tears away. “People don’t truly die… not really. You hold them here,” she pressed a hand to his chest over his heart. “You hold them here in your heart forever, so they never truly die. Fontaine will be with you always…” she offered him a soft smile. “And you hold him there, you hold onto him so tightly he’ll never leave you. Then he’ll never really die. I know it’s not much help right now and it feels like someone’s ripped away your whole world… but it gets better. It gets easier…”  
  
Clayton sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand across his nose. “P-people stay with you?”  
  
“Yes.. they stay with you,” she nodded. “You hold them here,” she tapped over his heart again. “And they’ll never leave you. Never.”  
  
“I… I like that,” he smiled a little. “I don’t want Mister Fontaine to leave me…”  
  
“Then he never will,” Emilie brushed his curls back from his face. “He’ll never leave you.  
  
Clayton pulled up the pamphlet again and opened it. “You want me to continue reading it?”  
  
“Go on,” she smiled. “Let’s here what this Atlas has to say…”  
  
She could only imagine what he was going to say now that Fontaine was dead. If Atlas was a workingman himself, then chances are, Fontaine was also responsible for his food too. Just like everyone else’s.  
  
The rest of the way home was filled with Clayton’s voice as he read the pamphlet eagerly. It was a distraction for him, she realised, she had no doubt they’d be curled up together once they got home. Opal might come and check on them later once the news spread. For now, it was just her and her little boy, while the words of Atlas floated around them, but one sentence just kept coming up that stuck with her.  
  
 _Someone cares._

* * *

  
 _“It’s been a traumatic day in Rapture, hasn’t it Mary?”_  
  
 _“Yes, John it has. We’ve just had reports in that Frank Fontaine is dead. Killed in a shootout with police, along with many of his thuggish followers.”_  
  
 _“Mister Ryan has informed us that it was a bloody shootout, many good men were lost, but Fontaine took the cowards way out.”_  
  
 _“Seems like Fontaine didn’t have the back bone to stand trial and face justice. Ryan Industries is now tasked with the burden of taking over Fontaine Futuristics for the good of the city.”_  
  
 _“Once again, Andrew Ryan is bending over backwards to help Rapture thrive, but soon we’ll be business as usual folks. Now that the scoundrel Frank Fontaine is de-.”_  
  
Bill switched the radio off, while he glared into his drink.  
  
It was late, news had spread over the radio and public address. Sullivan, Kyburz and Pablo now sat quietly in the Fighting McDonagh. The door said ‘closed’, but it was only for the public. Tonight it was going to be just the four of them, though he doubted Pablo really cared all too much. He was probably only bothered about the free beer he was getting.  
  
“Well,” Pablo spoke after the silence had stretched on, all four men had been staring into their drinks, almost like they were looking for the answers at the bottom. Pablo looked up at all of them and offered a sarcastic smile. “You fucked up.”  
  
Bill glared at him, while Kyburz and Sullivan merely stared back at Pablo with a vague look of annoyance. It almost looked like a pleading look for him to shut up. Like they didn’t know that things were bad. That things had gone horribly horribly wrong.  
  
Speaking of things going horribly horribly wrong, Pablo looked awful. Bill was surprised the man could still form a coherent thought. His face was a mess of splicer growths and skin growing over his hair somehow. Hell, some of the skin had started to grow over his left eye, the man would be blind soon if he wasn’t careful, unless he was planning a trip to Steinman’s. Bill wasn’t sure how good of an idea that was, since recently the Doctor had been churning out some bloody awful looking women and men as of late. If they looked bad going into the surgery they looked worse coming out.  
  
“We know, Pablo…” Kyburz sighed, glaring angrily into his drink. “Ryan wasn’t supposed to take over the building, he… he wasn’t even supposed to kill Fontaine,” his eyes flickered up at Bill, almost looking accusingly at him, like he’d been the man that pulled the trigger on Fontaine. It wasn’t him, it had been that bastard, Cavendish. “What the hell happened?”  
  
“You saw the carnage, didn’t ya mate?” Bill pointed vaguely in the direction of the pier where Ryan’s men were cleaning up the dead and taking the bodies away. Ryan had wanted Fontaine’s for himself, apparently he had something special planned for it. Bill shuddered at the mere thought. “It was a bloody nightmare!”  
  
“Did you have to kill him?”  
  
“Blame Cavendish,” Sullivan slurred. He was on his sixth drink. “He’s the stupid sod that pulled the damn trigger. He’s the one that cut Fontaine in half with a shotgun.”  
  
Pablo winced at the thought. “That ain’t a nice way to go,” he said, looking down at his drink and swirling the liquid around. “But let’s be honest… hanging ain’t much better.”  
  
“Who said anything about hanging him?” Kyburz countered.  
  
“The fucking gallows outside Apollo Square where Andrew Ryan hung every other poor sod he deemed a criminal,” Pablo spat. “He would’ve hung Fontaine himself. Probably leave him out on display ya’ know? Like a warning,” he shrugged before pointing at nothing and squinting his eyes accusingly. “You best behave ya little bastard parasites or that hanging fucker right there will be you!”  
  
Bill couldn’t really argue that. Ryan had become just a wee bit paranoid as of late. His takeover of Fontaine Futuristics however? Well, that had seemingly come out of no where, but had it really?  
  
Bill had sat pondering this for hours before the others arrived. Had it really been that much of a surprise when Ryan had taken over the building. A corporate take over in Rapture, the one thing that Andrew Ryan had been against the entire time he’d been here. The excuses he’d fired at Bill when he’d protested. The same excuses that had come through the radio not too long ago.  
  
For the good of the city. We’ll break it up in due time.  
  
He’d argued with him. He’d tried to talk him out of it, explained that the people would be angry, that the poor would revolt. Ryan had merely scoffed at the notion. Said something along the lines of that’s just what the parasites want you to think and made a petty excuse that men had died to get this building.  
  
Yes, men had died. Plenty of good men had died in winning Ryan Fontaine Futuristics and the ADAM fortune, but Bill very much doubted Andrew Ryan gave a damn about that. He was certain that Ryan would’ve killed as many people as needed to get his hands on the ADAM.  
  
Then there was those bloody orphanages. Christ. Bill had always suspected that there was something more going on behind closed doors, but he’d never imagined what they found. All those little girls turned into nothing but science experiments. Turned into ‘ADAM factories’ as that creep Suchong had explained. The children had stared at them, their eyes… glowed a sickly yellow, almost reminded Bill of the Bid Daddies that wondered around. The glass portholes in their helmets glowed the same sickly yellow at all times. Unless you managed to piss one off, then it would change to an angry and rage fuelled red.  
  
Had Ryan closed the orphanages? Had he made Suchong and Tenenbaum reverse what they’d done? No. No, he hadn’t. He’d argued that they had no other form of producing the ADAM required and that the two doctors should and would continue their work. That they’d look for future solutions, but right now they had no other option.  
  
Those children were treated even poorly than when Fontaine had been around. It seemed like Frank Fontaine, the bastard he may have been, had tried to make up for it by giving the children nice little rooms with toys and painted up nice and pretty. It had made Bill sick. Fontaine had treated them like children, Ryan had treated them like a product. He’d even gone on about using the Little Sisters as a marketing tool. _Marketing!_  
  
“Would you shut up,” Kyburz snapped at him, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Oh bloody hell… I’ve just costed Em her job! I never thought-.”  
  
“She doesn’t blame you, Kyburz,” Bill assured, remembering the woman’s steely gaze that she’d fired at him and he couldn’t really blame her. “She’s angry at me. She’s angry at Ryan…”  
  
“She’s got a right to be,” Sullivan slurred, gulping down more of his drink. “Hell, they all do. Ryan’s just tossed them out of a job… he may as well’ve tossed them outta their home too!”  
  
“People are gonna be angry…” Kyburz said, staring into his drink. “They’re gonna protest.”  
  
“Think they’re gonna do more than that, mate,” Bill sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they start to riot.”  
  
“Sure will!” Pablo piped up. “Especially now there’s this Atlas going around,” he grinned at them. “Oh you boys have just gone and sowed the seeds of ya own demise, ya fuckin’ morons.”  
  
“Remind me again why I invited you here?”  
  
“Cause ya need someone to tell it to ya’ straight.”  
  
“No,” Kyburz shook his head. “No we really don’t. We already know. Ryan, that… we told him, you told him Bill!” He pointed at said man in question. “You told him we’d have to handle this Fontaine business carefully.”  
  
“Ryan doesn’t listen to me much anymore.”  
  
“Ryan doesn’t listen to anyone much anymore,” Sullivan added unhelpfully. “It’s been like that for a while.”  
  
“Think it’s always been like that,” Bill whispered, staring at the bar top. “We just didn’t notice ‘cause we thought he was right.”  
  
The room fell silent again. The men stared back into their respective drinks, no doubt Ryan was back in Hephestus celebrating his rival’s demise by writing up new contracts for the workers he wanted to keep. He’d seemed a little too pleased for Bill’s liking with the outcome of the events. Sure, Fontaine hadn’t been Bill’s favourite person in the world, the man had been a right tea leaf, but it seemed a little morbid to be celebrating his death and taking over his business.  
  
Ryan had scrapped Fontaine’s will, but Bill had been able to save one thing from it. Just the one. He felt like he needed to, like he owned the person this particular item was left to.  
  
Quietly, Bill reached down and placed the box he’d taken with the envelope addressed to Clayton stuck to it, on top of the bar. He stared at it, the three men around him stared at it. Bill hadn’t looked inside, he didn’t know what was in it, he hadn’t read the letter left with it either, but he was surprised. He knew that Clayton had, for some reason that he still couldn’t fathom, had liked Fontaine, but he didn’t think that notion was felt both ways. Though it seemed, Fontaine was a lot more complicated then he’d given him credit for. He certainly seemed to care about Clayton in some way.  
  
He was on the fence if whether that was a good thing.  
  
“What’s that?” Asked Pablo, nodding at it.  
  
“Dunno,” Bill shrugged. “Fontaine left it for Clayton. It was in his will,” he glanced at Sullivan. “I don’t think Ryan’s gonna miss whatever’s inside…”  
  
Sullivan waved him off. “Didn’t see anything.”  
  
“Thanks, Chief.”  
  
“I’ve dealt with enough death today…” Sullivan mumbled staring at the bottom of his now empty glass. “Could do without a friends death on my conscious.”  
  
They fell silent again, but Bill decided that he’d had enough of feeling sorry for himself, so he finished off his drink and motioned for the others to do the same.  
  
Kyburz grimaced and downed his, so did Pablo. They both slammed the glasses down, Bill took all three glasses and popped them in the sink to wash them tomorrow, or whenever he got a chance. He had a feeling that the council was going to be busy for a while now. Keeping the peace and trying to calm everyone down. Trying to keep the poorer folk in some sort of order and that was going to be no picnic, especially if this Atlas fellow was egging everyone on to get angry.  
  
He found it a bit convenient this Atlas rising up when he did. Maybe he was just waiting for the perfect moment and Fontaine’s death had certainly delivered that.  
  
They shouldn’t of shot Fontaine down like that, the good people of Rapture hadn’t singed up for this madness.  
  
 _He’d brought it on himself_ , Bill reminded himself as he followed the other three outside, carrying the box for Clayton, pausing only to lock up. _He’d brought it on himself. Should’ve just copped it on the chin. He was the one that decided to go down guns blazing._  
  
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d done exactly what the ponce had wanted. Fontaine had certainly been spiteful enough that Bill wouldn’t of put it past the man to cause a scene even after his death. There had always been something dramatic about Fontaine, like he was always performing for an audience. Bill had seen it, even as far back as the first plasmid reveal, hell, further than that to the anniversary ball when he’d had Em as his ‘date’ for the evening.  
  
Bill recalled how Emilie had complained about it afterwards, explained that the bastard had pulled her up on contract and she’d had a few not too nice words to say on the matter.  
  
They walked through the very place the gun fight had gone off. The bodies had thankfully all been cleared away, no doubt Fontaine’s body was on its way to Ryan. Bill imagined that Ryan would be staring down at it smugly. Maybe even monologging to the corpse. He’d certainly been smug about the death.  
  
As for the rest of the bodies… well, they’d be sent to the incinerator in the Medical Pavilion, unless someone came to claim the dead. He found it strange that Steinman had practically leaped at the chance, he’d even said he’d take care of Fontaine’s body, but Ryan had declined that.  
  
Walking towards the bathysphere port, Bill saw the various bullet holes left from the fight. A few stains of blood still littered the ground where the men hadn’t cleaned up probably. Some even stained the walls.  
  
They jumped and Kyburz had even yelled when a splicer body suddenly dropped from the ceiling and landed in the water in a splash. At least it hadn’t landed on the pier, Bill didn’t want to see another person’s head explode today. He’d seen enough during the fire fight.  
  
Eventually they’d made it to the bathysphere port, pausing a second because Karlosky, Redgrave and Cavendish were all there. They seemed to be doing something at one of the pillars, Bill noticed a rope had been wrapped around it and that Karlosky was holding a case. Redgrave looked ill, but he seemed to be stealing himself.  
  
Bill had been confused as to why, he imagined they all had, but they got their answer when they waled round to the front of the pillar.  
  
“Oh my god…” Kyburz whispered in horror.  
  
Strung up on the pillar was one of Fontaine’s men, one of the bastards that had died in the fire fight. He had a noose around his neck going up to the ceiling and his arms were spread out. He almost looked like a mockery of christ. Above him, Cavendish just finished painting the words ‘smuggler’ in the poor sods own blood. Bill watched as Cavendish, the sick bastard that he was, dipped his paint brush into one of the numerous bullet holes on the man’s body and went over the letters again. Even going so far as to finish it off with a flourish.  
  
“Whats going on here?” Sullivan asked, now sounding considerably more sober than he had all night.  
  
“Mister Ryan…” Redgrave began, taking a look at the body and gagging a little. “Mister Ryan… he.. he requested this…”  
  
“Ryan did what?” Pablo raised an eyebrow at him, glancing up at the body.  
  
“Ryan requested we hang body on wall,” Karlosky said, his Tommy gun shouldered away while he held onto the case. “As warning.”  
  
“A warning for who?” Bill asked.  
  
“Who’d you think?” Cavendish pointed at the word above the man’s body. “Smugglers obviously. Can’t you bastards read?” He rolled his eyes and went back to his work.  
  
“Smug- but they’re all dead,” Sullivan cried, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing. Bill felt the same. Hell he felt dizzy.  
  
Karlosky shrugged. Nothing really seemed to bother him much. “Maybe, maybe not,” he said, looking up at the body. “Ryan wants to make sure no one else gets idea into head to fill Fontaine’s place. This man we make an example of. People see what happens to them if they smuggle, if they smart, they don’t smuggle,” he shrugged. “Simple.”  
  
“It’s barbaric..” Kyburz whispered, he looked equally as ill as Redgrave did.  
  
Above them, Cavendish snorted. He looked down at them all and sent Kyburz a mocking smile. “To say you Aussies are convicts ya sure a squeamish lot.”  
  
“Alright- ya know what ya’ fucking wanker-!”  
  
“Easy, Kyburz,” Bill placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer. “Don’t let the bastard get to ya. ‘E’s only interested in rattlin’ ya cage, mate.”  
  
“Besides,” Karlosky added helpfully. “Not as bad as what Ryan had us do with Fontaine.”  
  
They froze.  
  
Very slowly Bill turned to look at Karlosky. The Russian didn’t give anything away. That was one of the annoying things about him, he was always so damn passive you could never get a good read on him. He just stated things and then stood with his mouth shut, face not giving anything away. Still, Bill doubted that whatever Ryan had them do with Fontaine’s body wouldn’t be a good thing. He almost didn’t want to ask, but in the end he didn’t have to, because Sullivan did it for him.  
  
“And.. what did Ryan have you do with Fontaine’s body?”  
  
Karlosky glanced at them a moment, before looking back at the body that was hung up on the wall. “Ryan had us pin it to pillar outside his office,” the Russian explained, before grimacing a little. “Because Cavendish shot him in two, we had to sew him up. Very messy,” he glared at Cavendish. “Why’d you have to be so fuckin’ stupid and shoot him in half? Clean shot to head would’ve done trick.”  
  
“Can’t shoot anyone clean with a shotgun,” Cavendish snapped back. “Besides, got the job done didn’t it? The bastard’s dead and Ryan’s happy. That’s all that matters,” he stepped down from his place, having finished his job. Cavendish gestured to the body. “Alright then. Karlosky, lay the finishing touch.”  
  
Karlosky grunted and placed the case down, opening it up and resting the lid against the pillar. Inside the case were bibles and crosses, a few film reels, all things that had no doubt been smuggled in to Rapture. This was Ryan’s warning. Bill felt like it was going to do the opposite. He didn’t think it was going to stop anyone from smuggling, well, maybe it would, but it was also going to make a lot of folk angry. The hanging as a whole for smuggling had made people angry, but Ryan had calmed that by saying once all smugglers were caught and hung, then there would be no more need for it.  
  
Now it felt like that if Ryan deemed anything as awful or bad, they’d be hung regardless of what it was. Especially since now he didn’t have anywhere to put these ‘criminals’, Lamb was still in control of Persephone, but it didn’t look like she was going anywhere. Sinclair had been smart enough to lock the whole place down, so she wasn’t getting out any time soon, so that was one last headache to worry about.  
  
“We’re gonna grab some of them boxes we found and set them up here with the body,” Cavendish went on. “By Ryan’s request. Come on, wanna get this done as quick as possible.”  
  
Karlosky and Redgrave followed after Cavendish, though it looked like Karlosky was burning holes into the back of his head. Redgrave still looked ill. The door to port Neptune opened and closed behind the three men, leaving Bill, Kyburz, Sullivan and Pablo staring at the corpse left behind.  
  
Bill wasn’t sure what to make of it. He couldn’t process the words to describe how he felt at that moment in time, he was too in shock, but Pablo, never a man without a word to say, seemed to do it for them and he summed it up perfectly.  
  
“We’re fucked.”  
  
Bill grimaced slightly, but he felt himself nodding in agreement, he was certain that both Kyburz and Sullivan were nodding too. There was no other way you could sum it up, they were indeed, well and truly fucked. It was almost funny. Bill wasn’t laughing however.  
  
“You don’t think he’s going to hang bodies up everywhere do you?” Kyburz asked.  
  
“No,” Sullivan mumbled. “Just in the places he feels he needs to. Here, Apollo Square, hell, any of the poor places. He’ll hang up bodies as reminders to everyone.”  
  
“It’s not gonna work,” Bill mumbled. “He thinks it’s gonna stop people, it’s only going to make people angry, Chief. They’ll tear Rapture apart to get to him.”  
  
Sullivan didn’t say anything, but his lips were in a tightly closed line. He knew Bill was right and was probably dreading what that meant for him. Bill was dreading what it meant for all of them.  
  
Above them, a splicer cackled delightedly and the men stared at it uneasily. It was a female splicer and she had a yellow cloth tied around both arms. She grinned down at them, using the hooks to keep herself in place as she swung from side to side, almost like some twisted dance.  
  
“You’re all done for!” She cried. “Atlas is coming! Atlas is coming! He cares! Atlas cares! He’s the voice of the people, the voice that speaks for us all! Long live Atlas, death to Ryan!”  
  
“Who is Atlas?!” Bill shouted at it, though he doubted he’d get an answer.  
  
The female splicer giggled, scuttling off into the darkness and disappearing out of sight. Her glowing Plasmid infused eyes were the last thing they saw, but even when they lost sight of it completely, they could still hear it scuttling around. It cackled and giggled to itself, chanting about how great Atlas was, how he was going to tear down the tyrant Andrew Ryan.  
  
“Who is Atlas?! Tell us, who he is!” Kyburz yelled up into the empty air when the splicer’s tittering and clattering had died down.  
  
They jumped when the splicer appeared hanging onto the pillar, crawling around staring down at them, the smile almost split its face.  
  
“Atlas is coming! Long live Atlas! Voice of the people speaks for us all!”  
  
“Who is Atlas?!” Sullivan yelled at it, seeming to get annoyed and pulling his gun out, pointing it at the splicer’s head. “Come on ya dizzy bitch, who is Atlas?!”  
  
The splicer grinned, tilting its head to the side, eyes flashing with power. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”  
  
Without another word, the splicer climbed up the pillar and disappeared into the darkness once more, it didn’t come back this time. It seemed to be done toying with them for now. Even though it was gone, however, it still left them all shaken and with one very big question on their minds.  
  
 _Who is Atlas?_

* * *

  
 _Andrew Ryan,_  
  
 _Alone at Last:_  
  
 _This facility belongs to the city now- to Ryan Industries… at least until the rioting subsides. While it is unfortunate that such measures had to be taken… I must admit, it is gratifying to see this building condemned._  
  
 _Fontaine is gone. Lamb is gone… or close enough. I am alone at last… alone with_ my city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left!! O.O I can't believe we've made it here! Don't worry it's not over... I still can't part two ready and waiting!


	40. After You've Gone

_Ada,_   
  
_Give a little, get a little:_   
  
_Fontaine is dead and Ryan has taken over… a corporate take over here in Rapture.. have you ever heard of anything so horrific?!_   
  
_Well yes, a man is dead but that’s hardly a concern to me now is it and to be quite… ah.. frank, Fontaine practically painted that target on his back. He really was asking for it in every sense of the word. Now where am I supposed to get my plasmids? My tonics? My face will… will… No, no, I must not think like that! Ryan has taken over and sure the prices may go up but.. but that’s fine. Annoying, but fine. Still.. there’s gossip on the streets.. some people, my darlings, don’t understand that to truly move forward… it comes at the cost of blood. Why, the great walls of Rome were built on it, the Empire State is responsible for the graveyards being a little more full than before- to truly evolve you have to give a little. You give a little you get a little._   
  
_Mister Fontaine has given a little… now let us hope the rest of us get a little._

* * *

  
_“Goooood morning Rapture! How are we all feeling today? Got your blood pumping yet or are you still feeling the blues of yesterday?”_  
  
 _“I’m not, John!”_  
  
 _“Oh and why’s that Mary? You do look positively radiant!”_  
  
 _“Why I’ve taken some of Andrew Ryan’s new plasmid line! From Ryan Industries! It’s better, safer and free of criminal taint! Like every enterprise should be.”_  
  
 _“Now you’re talking Ma-.”_   
  
Limey switched the radio off and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. Her stuff was packed in three little bags, she only needed to make her way down to Hestia Chambers now. Francis was waiting for her.   
  
She’d radioed ahead and told him about Reggie. He hadn’t replied, but she was certain that he’d heard her. The silence on the other end of the line had been concerning at first, but if he was anything like she expected him to be during a loss, then he’d be tossing things around. Francis had always had a weak hold on his temper. Especially when something went wrong. Though, nothing had ever gone this wrong before.   
  
_It hadn’t gone wrong_ , she reminded herself harshly as she left her apartment and locked it just to be safe, _Reggie had planned to die. He’d taken Francis’s face and planned to die and… and Andrew Ryan called him a coward?_   
  
She felt herself getting angry again. She could feel the rage building up once more at Andrew Ryan, but she couldn’t loose her cool now. No, they still had a plan to follow and she had no doubt that she’d be tasked with calming Francis down. He’d probably locked himself away somewhere so he could trash the place. She recalled many nights when she’d had to clean up after another tantrum, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to calm him down. Reggie had always been better at that than she had. She.. often made it worse.   
  
Sighing softly she made her way through the crowds of people, taking the bathysphere to her destination. A lot of people were staring at her, they knew who she was, she’d worked close with Fontaine after all, but she kept her face neutral. She would not break down, not until she’d safely reached her destination or preferably, when she was alone.   
  
This life of there’s had always been dangerous. There had always been an element of risk, but it had never been too much risk. The worst that would happen would be prison, now one of them was dead. Now they all could die, but if she knew Francis like she was certain she did, now he’d be even more stubborn. He’d want to kill Ryan, he’d aim to win at all cost now, now that they’d… now that they’d lost Reggie.   
  
Her grip tightened around the handle of her case, almost white knuckled, but she kept the tears back. She would not cry in the face of strangers. She would not cry in the face of Francis either. She shouldn’t be so upset, she’d know that Reggie was going to… she knew he’d planned for that to happen, but there had been a stupid part of her that hoped he wouldn’t go through with it.   
  
Then Clayton’s cries of despair at the loss of Fontaine had been heartbreaking. The boy had taken quite the shine to their Francis. Now the child thought his beloved hero was dead, when in actual fact he was masquerading as someone else. Pretending to be this grand revolutionary Atlas.   
  
Hopefully, the child would never know the truth. It would break his heart. She didn’t know if she could stand to see that a second time, she’d seen it once and her heart had gone out to him. The poor boy probably wouldn’t understand and even if he did find out about Francis being.. Atlas… well if he found out too early, she wasn’t sure what Francis would do with the boy. Would he kill him? In the past she would’ve said no, but in recent times she found it very difficult to see the boy she’d helped raise for the age of ten. He’d changed. Become worse. Almost manic. It would seem that Rapture brings out the worst in people.   
  
After arriving in Olympus Heights, she took the tram up to Apollo Square, eyeing the gallows as it stood for all to see. She felt a shudder go down her spine, almost like someone had walked over her grave. The gallows now looked more intimidating as it sank in that this place could very well be the last place she ever saw. That she’d never see England again, she’d never be able to show Francis London and they’d never retire to that tropical beach he’d fantasised about.   
  
Shaking her head, she stole herself and marched through to Hestia Chambers. Around her were posters advertising Atlas and how wonderful he was. That he was doing everything to help people. There was a large group of people, someone was preaching on top of one of the news booths. So it would seem that Francis had a few trusted followers who were willing to keep it going while he no doubt tore his office to pieces.   
  
She walked past the crowd that eagerly listened, right up to the doors of the poor house that resided in Hestia. A woman quickly greeted her at the door, offering a kind smile that Limey didn’t think anyone in Rapture was capable of.   
  
“Are you here for Atlas?”  
  
“Yes,” Limey nodded, gripping her things tightly. “May I speak with him?”   
  
The woman glanced hesitantly upwards, no doubt to where Francis had made his own space. “I’m not sure…” she said softly. “He’s been awful upset. Said something about… a family member dying in that shootout with Fontaine. Something awful that,” she frowned softly. “I can take you upstairs and try but…”   
  
“I understand…” she managed to say, keeping her face as passive as she could. She couldn’t cry here, not now. “But please if you could try that would be… just..” She closed her eyes to collect herself, feeling the woman gently place a hand on her shoulder.   
  
“You worked for Fontaine didn’t you? He did so much for us…” the woman looked visibly sad. “So much.. he helped us when no one else would, we’d be lost with Atlas…” she glanced up at the stairs again and beckoned Limey to follow her. “Come on… I’ll take you to him.”   
  
Limey followed her, noticing that many of the men, women and even children were staring at her. They probably recognised her as working for Fontaine. News spread after all, even down here. She couldn’t believe that it had only been yesterday when it all had happened, when Reggie had…   
  
Closing her eyes she forced the tears back and shook her head a little. She really needed to stop thinking like that. It was stupid and dangerous. She couldn’t be seen to be that upset, from everyone’s point of view, Fontaine was just her employer. It wasn’t even Fontaine that was dead, it was Reggie but… no one would know that. They’d presume Reggie had been in the fire fight and died along side Fontaine and in some ways he had. Frank Fontaine was dead, but Frank was still very much alive.   
  
The woman knocked hesitantly at the door they’d reached. Limey was surprised that it opened on the first knock, she was even more surprised to see the room was still intact. Well, the view that she had from the door was still intact.   
  
She was amazed when she saw him. If she hadn’t known it was Francis, she wouldn’t of been able to tell. It was like a completely different person was in front of her.   
  
There stood Francis, a strong jaw and cleft chin, with bright blue eyes and golden brown hair that was swept over. He wore a plain white shirt and vest, suspenders on show, or as Limey would call them, braces. Jeans adored his legs and he wore workingman’s boots, he looked exactly like the posters she’d seen. Dressed like this you could see the workingman’s figure he’d managed to keep up even while he’d been Frank Fontaine. It wasn’t just his looks, but his whole demeanour had changed. It wasn’t harsh or unwelcoming, it was open and kind. The type of look you’d trust in an instant.   
  
As if to show how good of a handle he had on this character, he placed his hands on his hips, looking exactly like the posters. Like he’d posed for them when they’d first drawn them up.   
  
It wasn’t her Francis that stood in front of her now, it was Atlas, the hero for the workingman. The voice of the people.   
  
“Everythin’ alright, Molly?” He asked, the Irish accent thick and perfect. He sounded exactly like a man from Dublin. The concern was so genuine in his speech too. It looked like Francis had pulled all the stops out on this one.   
  
“I’m sorry to bother you, Atlas,” this woman, Molly said. She gestured to Limey. “But this Lady wants to join. I know… I know she used to work for Fontaine and Fontaine-.”   
  
“Fontaine was good to us. Unlike bloody Andrew Ryan,” he narrowed his eyes and for a brief second Limey saw the man she knew, but it was gone in an instant. “That’s fine, I’ll talk with her,” he smiled kindly. “Would you be a darlin’ and get the crates ready. We’re gonna be headin’ down to Pauper’s Drop later. There’s still a bunch of fine folk down there that need all the help they can get.”  
  
“Yes, Atlas,” Molly nodded and quickly scampered off.   
  
Then it was just her and Francis. She stared at him and despite the act, she could tell he was keeping everything bottled up inside. He flashed her his Atlas smile and gestured to the bags.   
  
“Ya need me to take ‘em for ya luv’?”  
  
“Call me luv again and I’ll shoot you,” she replied quietly, but she did hand him one of her bags, the two wondered inside and he closed the door.   
  
Once the door was shut and they were alone, the stranger became someone she knew. It was Francis standing in front of her, not this Atlas that she didn’t know. Though she supposed she’d have to get to know him soon, so the con could be convincing.   
  
She left her bags drop carelessly to the floor, gazing around the room which was quite plane and surprisingly intact. He hadn’t trashed it, but she supposed that good old Atlas wouldn’t trash or destroy his office, no matter how angry or upset he’d be. Even if he’d lost someone that he cared about. He was holding it back, she realised, because one look at his hands and she could see the anger radiating off him in waves. His knuckles were white and looked like they were trying to burst through the skin with how tightly he’d clenched his fists.   
  
“You’ve managed to keep everything…” she gestured around the room, her lip wobbled slightly and Frank stared at her, giving a little nod.   
  
“Ain’t been easy,” he whispered, his New York bronx back in place. “Reggie… he… are you sure?”  
  
“Yes,” Limey choked, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “He.. he told me he was going to…”   
  
“ _What?_ ”   
  
She winced at his voice and looked up, finally letting the tears flow. “He told me he was going to… he said… he said Frank Fontaine had to die.. I tried to stop him, I tried.. I..”   
  
She couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears came and so did the sobbing. Many people thought that Limey was a cold and calculated bitch, but in truth she cared. She cared about her family and now she’d lost one of her family. No con was worth this, but she knew that Francis would use it as an excuse. Saying they had to keep going in honour of Reggie.   
  
Limey tensed when she felt arms wrap around her. She looked up to find him, his face schooled into an emotionless expression, but his eyes spoke volumes. Eyes were the window to the soul after all. He was angry. He was damn right furious, either at her or at Reggie she couldn’t tell. Though if he was angry with her, she doubted that he’d be so kind with her now.   
  
Hugging wasn’t a custom they did. They weren’t the overly emotional and affectionate type, it just wasn’t in their nature. The most affectionate they’d ever been were little nudges or punches to the arm. Reggie had used to ruffle Frank’s hair when he’d been a boy. That was as affectionate as they’d ever been. Openly affectionate that is.  
  
Now, however, Limey could’ve cried in relief at the feeling of a warm embrace. It was a little awkward. Frank wasn’t a very openly affectionate person, he never had been. Even with their little nudges it happened every so often. Still, she buried her head in his chest and clung to him like a life line.   
  
She cried. He didn’t.

* * *

  
Emilie came home after another fruitless day of trying to find a job. She’d been half tempted to even ask Cohen for some work, but quickly snuffed that idea out when she witnessed what he classed as ‘art’. She idly wondered if the two unlucky sods he’d electrocuted because they hadn’t followed his artistic vision were still alive. Probably wasn’t best to dwell.   
  
Clayton was sat on the sofa, clutching his teddy tightly in his hands, his fingers gliding over the watch. He hadn’t stopped touching it since yesterday. It was a nervous tick he’d developed over his time having it. Whenever he got nervous or worried, he’d fiddle with the watch or just run his fingers over it.   
  
He looked up and quickly ran to her, hugging her around her middle until she bent down and picked him up, hugging him back. He was getting a little too big to pick up, he was nine years old now, ten this year. Time had flown by and now it was going to get tough. She could feel it in the air. People were talking about what Andrew Ryan had done. The nationalising of Fontaine Futuristics, how he now owned the plasmid business and the Orphanages.   
  
“Hey søntos…”   
  
“Did you get a new job, mama?”  
  
“No…” she sighed and brushed his hair back. “No I didn’t, but.. I’m sure something will come up soon. Something’s bound to-.”   
  
A frantic knock at the door made her jump.   
  
She pulled Clayton behind her and opened the door, surprised and angry to find Bill on the other side. He looked out of breath, like he’d ran here. In his hand he clutched a box, the other he was using to lean on the door frame and catch his breath.   
  
“What the hell are you-.”  
  
“Ya gotta run, Em!” He said at her, eyes wide and frantic. “Ryan’s sent his men. They’re going to arrest you.”  
  
“Arrest me?” She blinked at him. “What- why? I’ve not done-.”   
  
“Ryan thinks ya’ had something to do with the smuggling, he also wants them plans to the Gate. You both gotta hide,” he glanced around. “Kyburz is holding them off for as long as he can, he’s stalling them, but he won’t be able to do it for long. You gotta go!”   
  
Emilie quickly ran to her room, ushering Clayton to his, telling him quickly in Norwegian to pack his things, only the essential stuff that he could carry into a backpack. Her son sprinted into his room, grabbing his backpack and stuffing his clothes inside, but telling a child to pack the essentials was a useless act. He quickly packed away the two books Fontaine had got him for his birthday and stuff his teddy inside. Pulling his jumper on, he grabbed the bomber jacket and shoved it on, swinging his backpack onto his back. Em wasn’t much better. Sure she packed the essentials, but she also packed up her red dress too. It was her favourite and she’d miss it if she didn’t bring it with her. It also held sentimental value to it.  
  
When she came running out, Bill was handing Clayton a box, telling the boy to shove it into his backpack and he did quickly. She wondered what the box was and what the hell was in it, but that would have to wait, they had to run. Ryan’s men were not too keen on taking prisoners. Just look at what had happened to Frank Fontaine.   
  
“You gotta go, c’mon luv!” He began pushing them outside and pointed towards the exit. “Go, go!”   
  
“Will you tell Daniel and Opal?”   
  
“Yeah, I’ll let ‘em know,” he glanced around. “Come on, we gotta get moving-.”   
  
“Bill, just get out of here,” she offered him one last smile. “You’ve got your wife and daughter to think about. We’ll be fine, go!”   
  
He looked hesitant. Bill was always a good man, a good person trapped in a world that wouldn’t allow you to take the high road, especially not now. Ryan was done playing by the rules he’d set. He was going to make them up as he went now and anyone that got in his way or disagreed would be taken away or killed. This is what it had come down to. This was the nightmare that they were now living in. It was crazy.   
  
Pauper’s Drop was her only option. As much as she hated the idea of going back there, she could hide in that place. They both could and she knew the Drop like the back of her hand, but she wondered if it had changed in the time she’d been gone. How many spliced up individuals now lined the streets or even if all the buildings were even left standing. The Deluxe had always felt like it would topple over at any chance it got. The elevator would probably still be broke.   
  
“Tell Kyburz thank you,” she said as she began to run away, tucking Clayton along with her. “Tell him thank you and I’m sorry!”  
  
Bill shouted something to her, but she didn’t hear it. Her ears felt like they were ringing as she ran, telling Clayton to keep going, to keep his head up and run.   
  
They hid behind signs and people whenever they spotted some of Ryan’s men, avoided the cameras at all cost. She was luckily aware of where most of those were. Only a few of the newer ones she didn’t know the location of. There wouldn’t be any cameras in the Drop, Ryan didn’t care enough to put them there and the people certainly couldn’t afford to put one up. Despite the fact that they sorely needed one, they needed one more than the rich did, in Em’s opinion.  
  
In hindsight she’d known it was coming down to this. That Ryan and Fontaine would fight and only one of them would be left standing, but she was honestly surprised that it was Ryan. She’d always assumed it would be Fontaine. He’d always been the one that had played dirty, dealt with underground dealings in secret, but it seemed, when the chips were down, Ryan was more than capable of playing dirty too. He was even worse than Fontaine because he had control of everything and he also didn’t trust a single person. He was paranoid and ready to take out anyone he deemed a risk. That was why he was after her. Ryan’s Gate.   
  
She cursed her past self for building that damn thing. She should’ve just said no and left it alone, but she’d needed the money at the time and it was nice to finally be recognised. For her talents to be recognised despite everything. Now, she wished she could take it back, but sadly life didn’t work like that. You worked with what you got and now she was public enemy number one or at least she was to Ryan. He’d want her captured of dead to protect himself. Clayton would probably be killed along with her to stop any witnesses from getting out, everyone else would be too scared to stand up for her.   
  
They managed to get to the Atlantic Express, sitting at the back and hiding their faces. Clayton clung to her tightly, her son was terrified. He was shaking. She’d promised him that he’d never have to worry about people ever again, that everything would be fine and now look. They were running away. Hiding from the monster that was Andrew Ryan. The tyrant. Now listen to her, she sounded like that Atlas fellow. Was he wrong though? Not in her eyes he wasn’t. He seemed to have hit the nail on the head with what Andrew Ryan was.  
  
Emilie felt angry, it crept up on her almost out of nowhere. She decided that it had been building and now it had finally burst free. She’d been too scared while they’d been running to the Atlantic Express to allow her anger to reach past the fear, but now it was on full display.   
  
Pulling her son closer to her, she kissed his forehead and promised him that they’d be safe. That she’d kept them somewhere safe and soon everything would be okay.   
  
Clayton looked up at her with teary eyes. “You’re lying…” he whispered, clinging to her a little tighter. “Things aren’t going to get better…”   
  
Emilie frowned at him sadly, wishing he wasn’t as good at reading people in that moment. No such luck, however. Her little boy had always had a knack for it. He only got better with age as he understood the world around him better than before. She wanted to tell him that the rest of the world wasn’t like this. That topside was a better place. A safer place.   
  
God she never should have left should she? She should’ve just stayed up on the surface and moved back to Norway, but she’d been promised so much. She’d been promised a new life, a new start, a place for the better away from any wars or corruption. Now she could see it for the lies it had been, the carefully planted words that enticed you in, like any good conman.   
  
Limey had been right of her assessment of Andrew Ryan. He was a coward, but a smart coward. He’d tricked them all to come down here with them. Lured them here with their pretty fantasies, he’d probably told them all a different thing. A different selling point to bring them in and once they were here, trap them, so they could never leave. Buried at sea.   
  
Emilie hated confined spaces. She hated dark and enclosed areas with no hope of escape. The irony wasn’t lost on her.  
  
The Atlantic Express finally stopped and she left the train with her son, his hand tightly gripping her’s as they ran through towards the Drop. They didn’t get far, three of Ryan’s men were waiting for them. They must of suspected she’d try running somewhere and were ready to stop her at any given point.   
  
“Let’s be honest,” one of them spoke, a wolfish grin spread over his face, he sounded British. “You really never stood much of a chance did you?”  
  
Emilie glared at him. She glanced at her son and squeezed his hand to get his attention. Clayton’s big brown stared back at her, wide and frightened. She could see the first sign of tears starting to appear in the corner of them.   
  
“Clayton… søntos…” she began, eyes flickering to the men. “I love you… remember that, remember that Mama loves you.” He nodded, lip trembling and reached up to hug her, but she shook her head. Pulling her gun out and finally firing. “Run!”   
  
Her son seemed stunned, but as she screamed at him frantically to run. He finally went running towards the rest of the Drop. She’d managed to clip the bastard that had grinned at her, the other two had been stunned, but they pulled up their guns. One a Tommy gun the other a pistol.   
  
Emilie followed after her son and ducked behind some of the debris from the ceiling, firing at the constables. She wouldn’t last long. She knew that, but it if meant her son would get away she’d gladly sacrifice herself. There was also an element of pride to it. She wasn’t going down without a fight.   
  
Bullets wizzed through the air and one clipped her arm, sent her spiralling backwards onto her back. She let out a scream and covered her arm as it bled, crawling away from the debris and keeping her head down as more shots rained from above. Emilie stumbled to her feet and sprinted around a corner, one of the constables followed her, the other two ran off in a different direction. Probably looking for her son.   
  
She worried, the fear soon consumed her while she shakily reloaded her gun, hiding away. The constable that had followed her was the bastard she’d clipped from before. So he was a vengeful sort then. That’s comforting to know, at least Ryan had found like minded people in this hell hole.   
  
“You know… I killed Fontaine,” the constable boasted. “Guess I get to kill his little bitch too!”   
  
She narrowed her eyes and fired another shot at him and he fired a shotgun blast back. Thankfully the pillar took the full frontal damage and she was able to sprint, ducking behind another support beam a bit further down, but she wasn’t running out of room. She’d be cornered. She could only hope that Clayton got away.   
  
Shakily she pulled the hammer back on her gun. Her fingers were covered in blood and her shoulder ached, gushing blood as it stained the front of her shirt. Closing her eyes a second she got ready to give one final shot at the constable, when a scream filled the air, followed by a thud.   
  
Slowly, cautiously, she poked her head round the corner, feeling her eyes widen at the sight before.   
  
The constable was on the floor, clutching his leg that was bleeding heavily and his shot gun had been kicked away. Standing over him was Limey of all people. The woman was regarding the man with nothing but contempt, looking up at Em she seemed surprised.   
  
“Oh. It’s you,” she said, blinking at her. “Well, best not dawdle. Atlas is up ahead.”   
  
“Clayton… my son!” Emilie said, running out from behind her cover, kicking the bastard in the face as she went. “He.. he ran off, I have to find him, Limey!”   
  
Limey pursed her lips, before nodding once. “Okay, but we must hurry. No telling when the reinforcements will arrive.”

* * *

  
Clayton sprinted through the Drop as fast as he could. His legs ached, his vision was blurry from the tears streaming down his face. It was almost akin to the time he’d been chased by those splicers. That felt like years ago now.   
  
Behind him he could hear the gun shots and shouting. His Mama was firing back, she was trying to distract them and keep them occupied so they’d ignore him.  
  
He ran round a corner, before coming to a stuttering top. It was a dead end. Some of the ceiling had come down and now blocked the way he was going, he couldn’t get to the air vent this way.   
  
Shaking his head and sobbing, he turned back to run, stopping again at the sight of Ryan’s men at the edge. There were only two of them, but they had guns. Did that mean he was Mama was dead? Had they killed her and now came after him? He was trapped there was no where for him to go.   
  
The men seemed unsure of what to do. Staring at him as Clayton backed away from them, he tripped over his own feet and fell hard onto his back, eyes wide and staring at the men. His brown eyes were wide and frightened, tears freely fell from them, leaving little tear tracks along his cheeks. This was it. He was going to die.   
  
The men looked at each other, before one shrugged and aimed at him with his machine gun. The gun was shaking but he seemed determined to do it. Clayton squeezed his eyes shut just like the last time he’d had to stare death in the face. Only last time it had been a group of crazed splicers, these people were supposed to be the good guys. The ones that protected you from the monsters and kept you safe. The people you were supposed to turn to when you needed help.   
  
No, they were the real monsters. The splicers needed the ADAM and the super powers to become monsters, these men didn’t need either. They just needed orders and then they’d do exactly as they were told.   
  
He waited for the gun to go off, to feel the pain of bullets tearing through his flesh and then finally blackness. That all encompassing darkness that came with death. It reminded him of the air vents.   
  
“Little mouse run!”   
  
Clayton’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice. He knew that voice because he’d been feeding that voice in the air vents for weeks now. It was Gabriel.   
  
Sure enough, Gabriel was tackling Ryan’s men. He cut through the one with the pistol easily, having to jump around the dodge the man with the machine gun as he shot at him.   
  
“Gabriel?”  
  
“Run!” He shouted again, slicing at the constable who slipped in the blood of the other fallen officer. “Run, little mouse, get away!”   
  
Clayton didn’t need to be told twice. He ran away, ran past the fight between the monster and the splicer, running in the general direction of where he thought his Mama might be. Maybe she was just hurt and needed his help? Maybe she was looking for him and hadn’t been killed by Ryan’s men. No, she couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t be. His Mama was too tough for that. She couldn’t be dead. She was looking for her, he knew she was.  
  
He ran around a corner, the bag felt heavy from the books and the box that Bill had given him, but he didn’t stop running. He was going to get to his Mama and they were going to hide and be okay.   
  
He shrieked when a splicer suddenly jumped down in front of him. It wasn’t friendly like Gabriel either.   
  
It crawled on its hands and feet, hooks held loosely almost looking like claws. It felt like the thing was stalking him as it moved from side to side, tilting its head this way and that.   
  
“It’s all over now…” it chuckled, a grin split its awful face nearly in two. One eye blind, the other was glowing with the power of whatever plasmids it had running through it. “I won’t hurt ya!”   
  
It leaped at Clayton, but the boy was able to dodge out of the way. He slipped the watch Fontaine had given him over his knuckles, knowing in the back of his head it would do very little against the splicer, but he had to try. He wasn’t going down without a fight, he was tried of running.   
  
The splicer leapt at him again and he dodged, this time tripping over backwards and scuttling away to try and get some distance from it. Maybe he could run away and then sneak up on it? He couldn’t take this thing head on.   
  
As he scrambled to try and get to his feet the splicer grabbed his leg and yanked him back down, the boy smacked his head on the floor. Dazed, he stared at the ceiling as he was dragged back towards the splicer, before it was hovering over him. It’s breath smelt disgusting and it even drooled a little on him while it looked over him.  
  
Clayton’s lip trembled, but he struck out with his fist, catching the splicer across the chin with his watch adorned fist. The splicer cackled in amusement, it only grazed the insane thing. The smile rose across its face, before it smacked Clayton back across the face.  
  
Clayton saw stars. His vision blurred for a second, all the colours washed out from the world around him and his ears rung like alarm bells in his head. He blinked rapidly to try and righten his vision, the splicer gripped him around the throat, clearly toying with him and enjoying every moment of it. It squeezed and Clayton reached up with his tiny fingers, trying to get it to loosen its grip. Kicking wildly at the thing, but missing the splicer every time.   
  
It rose its hook to strike, but before it even got a chance to, a gunshot sounded and the splicer’s head exploded. The body tumbled next to Clayton and had the boy not been out of breath he would’ve screamed.   
  
He coughed and choked, trying to sit up so he could runaway again, but he felt someone place their hand on his shoulder and pull him close, rubbing his back.   
  
“Easy, easy, lad… deep breaths, don’t try to choke the air down, alright?”   
  
The person had an accent, Clayton couldn’t place it, it wasn’t one he’d heard before, but it sounded nice. Soft and melodic. He tried to do what the person had said, rubbing at his neck. “There ya go.. that’s it, deep breaths now,” the stranger rubbed his back, holding him close, the action almost familiar.   
  
“There ya go… you alright lad? That damn splicer had ya in a tight hold there..”   
  
Now that he could see, Clayton looked up at the person who’d saved him. It was a man with golden brown hair that was swept to the side. He had a strong jaw and a kind face, being exceptionally gentle with him as he helped him to sit up. He rubbed at his back gently and brushed Clayton’s hair out of his face.   
  
“There ya are… you alright?” He asked, offering him a smile, concern and kindness swirling in his bright blue eyes. He felt strangely familiar and like a completely different person at the same time.   
  
“I- I’m fine,” he coughed a little and rubbed at his neck again, looking up at the man in confusion. “Wh- who are you?”  
  
The man smiled softly at him. “I’m Atlas,” he said, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to Clayton. “And I aim to keep you alive.”

* * *

  
_Emilie Lokken,_   
  
_That’s it then:_   
  
_Fontaine’s dead… Ryan’s taken over the industry, so much for free market and now he’ll be after the plans for Ryan’s gate. So that’s it then? I’m back to working for him? Oh no, not Ryan. Oh no, I’m never working for him again. I don’t think he’s got working for him in mind either, I think he wants me dead or worse. Hell, he’d probably just make me vanish like every other problem of his._   
  
_That’s not going to happen though, he won’t get me. He won’t get my son either, if he tries.. well I won’t go down without a fight. No one is touching my kid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.... that's the end... Of part one...

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first chapter, I'm currently working on the second, there are a lot of OCs in this because I wanted to explore the everyday people as well as the main characters from the game.  
> This is just a bit of fun because I really enjoy this series and I wanted to write for it.
> 
> It will be mostly cannon compliant, the major plot points won't change and if I do end up changing some stuff well... Bioshock Infinite did give a get out of jail free card with the multiple universes so... :) 
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys all enjoyed the first chapter, there will be more to come and if you're interested I have a Tumblr too which has aesthetics for my characters, as well as some extra audio diary entries that won't be put in the main story, art work of my OCs and even some news paper articles based on the Rapture Tribune. 
> 
> So it's just a bit of fun, but I hope you guys enjoy this all the same!! :D


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